


Bone of My Bone

by ccmoore



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-03-02 10:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 43,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccmoore/pseuds/ccmoore
Summary: Bucky Barnes has his job cut out for him when he is tasked with keeping the Vice-President's daughter safe. Will he be able to figure out who is stalking her? And more importantly, will he be able to remain professional and un-tempted by her charm and beauty?





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! Thanks for checking out this story. This chapter is a bit short, but I hope you like it!

**Chapter 1 • Piper | Saturday, 8:30 p.m.**

“This is ridiculous! Fucking ridiculous!” I yelled through my bedroom door. Lately, all of my fights seemed to end with my locking myself in my room, taking my aggression out on those poor door hinges. “I’m not doing it!”

“Your life is at risk, Piper!” a commanding voice shot back. My father. “When will you understand that?”

I huffed another breath. Of course I understood that. As the daughter of the Vice President of the United States, my life is always at risk. Even before that, in high school, when my dad was the U.S. Senator to New York. Or when he was state governor during elementary school. I’ve never remembered a life without my own security detail. I mean, I was the only third grader in the world playing on the playground with her security guards because the other kids thought she was weird.

And now that he announced his intention of running for President, even more security was needed, I guess.

“I already have my secret service,” I shot back, deciding to open the bedroom door for the first time in twenty minutes. I stuck my head out first, testing the waters, so to speak.

“That’s not enough,” his voice stayed firm, but he walked over to me and cupped my face with his hand.

“Dad, it’s been a few letters and some weird phone calls — not exactly a national security threat,” I shot back, fully coming out of my room. He then gripped my shoulders with his hands. Seriously, is this how he gets his bill to pass in the Senate? 

“Piper, we have credible threats that someone is trying to harm you. You need more detail. The best detail.”

“What’s better than the secret service?”

“There’s a private security firm out of D.C. that I’ve heard great things about. It’s run by these military guys with over 500 successful special service missions. They’re the real deal.”

“So what? I’m supposed to just go off with these guys and wait it out?” I walked out of his embrace and into my kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka. I then dug around my freezer for ice.

“Not at all. One of them will be here with you.”

I suppressed a laugh. I’ve given many of security guards a chase after me. My personal favorite was when I ditched my guards to go to the mall when I was sixteen. That was a great four hours of shopping, followed by the biggest pretzel I’ve ever eaten. How is this guy going to be any different?

“He’s not like the others, Piper,” my dad interrupted my reverie. “You won’t be able to pull your old stunts.”

Instead of responding, I feigned a smile and finished making my drink. I’ll give Dad this round. But I will win the war. “Fine. I’ll have extra detail when I’m out and about.”

“No, twenty-four seven,” my dad said while putting his blazer on. He fastened the two buttons and made sure his American flag pin sat right on his lapel. “He’ll be staying here with you.”

“WHAT?” I snapped, slamming the vodka bottle down.

“Like I said, none of your usual tricks.” He held in a laugh, which really pissed me off. “If he’s anything like Gabe told me, he’ll have this thing cracked in a week.”

“A week?”

My dad opened my door and I could see Richard, his head of security, in the hallway, speaking into his sleeve. They were getting ready to go back to the White House, no doubt. “The best of the best, for my one and only.” He stepped out, but then turned back to me. “Oh, he starts tonight. He’ll be up shortly.”

“WHAT!?” I screamed, only to see the door shut. “Fuck you!” I hope the whole building heard that.

I huffed another breath and then downed my drink. “Fucking great.”


	2. Day 1 (still)

**Chapter 2 • Bucky | Saturday, 9:50 p.m.**

I stood against the wall of elevators, surveying my new home for the next few days, depending on how long this job will last. It’s a pretty grandiose apartment building — the best D.C. has to offer. It’s centrally located in the city; traffic is constantly bustling outside, which will need to be addressed when when it comes to my security plan.

That’s one of my strengths at Avenger Security. Well, that and guns.

My best buddies — Steve and Sam — and I created this company five years ago right here in D.C. We’ve had clients from all over the world, so our team has grown to nearly forty. But the three of us, we still take clients here and there, when the situation is a certain level of dangerous. This one needed me, as I felt I owed a thanks to the man who personally called me, Gabe Jones. 

We served in the Army together, in a unit that became known as the Howling Commandos. We were known for undertaking extremely dangerous missions. After we reached our limit of war, we turned our special skills into a career that we all love: protecting people.

I was pulled out of my flashback when I heard the elevator next to me ding. I straightened up and waited for my boss to get out. 

“Mr. Barnes,” Vice-President Stewart said, outreaching his hand to shake mine. “Thanks for being here on such short notice.”

“Just a train stop away, sir,” I replied. “I’m honored to help my country.”

“You’ve dedicated years to serving your country, and I thank you,” he said. “And I wish you all the luck with this mission.” Before I could ask what he meant, the Vice-President clapped his hand on my shoulder and directed me towards the door. “Walk me out.”

I followed as he and his security detail walked to a waiting car out front. “My daughter is headstrong, there’s no doubt about that. But you’ll manage. I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Whatever you need to do to find this son-of-a-bitch, do it,” he said in a more hushed voice. “My daughter is my everything, you understand, right?” I nodded. “She’s all I have.”

“She’s safe with me, sir.”

He gave a curt smile. “I think so too.” He shook my hand once more before waving a man over. He looked like all the other secret servicemen in their black suits and earpieces. So obvious. “Jasper here will get you up to date. As well as introduce you to Piper.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

He walked off and waved. “Good luck!”

“Sir,” Jasper cut in, taking me away from what possibly Vice-President Stewart could have meant. “I’m Jasper DeHaven, head of Miss Stewart’s security. This a file we’ve complied on the threats against Miss Stewart.”

Jasper grabbed my luggage while I glanced over the file. He rattled on about her day-to-day life: classes at Georgetown University, her social outings, food deliveries and visitors to the apartment. Her file was what I expected to see from stalkers: notes left on her car, strange calls all hours of the day. 

Then there were a couple other instances that we very much unlike the others: pictures of her walking to class, eating out at a restaurant and, most unnerving, a package addressed to Piper laced with anthrax, intercepted by the FBI.

We headed upstairs via the elevator, with Jasper still talking. He had been head of Miss Stewart’s security for two years — the longest she’s had since her father became a prominent political figure. I closed her file as we exited the elevator at the penthouse level. One secret serviceman was detailed outside her door. 

“We take eight hour shifts; one guy is always posted outside the door. Two more of us are in an apartment just below hers. One, sometimes two, of us will follow Miss Stewart to class or outings, depending on the crowd size.”

“Good to know.”

“This is Chase,” Jasper said, introducing us. We shook hands, then Jasper opened the door. A scent of vanilla hit me first, followed by something floral, like from a perfume. The apartment was very spacious, with a large sunk-in living room overlooking the city, thanks to huge glass windows — a huge issue in my book. The kitchen and dining area all melded into one open space. There was a bedroom off from the living room and a small bathroom and from the looks of it, another bedroom across the apartment. “Miss Stewart?” 

That suspicion was confirmed when a woman walked out of said room. According to my folder, Piper Stewart is 21 years old, a senior at Georgetown studying political science and has a rather large circle of friends. I studied her as she walked to me — she was wearing jeans with a huge hole over her left knee and a black sweater, while her long blonde hair was gathered to one side. Having seen her face in the pictures of her file, I know she is beautiful. But her face is masked by heavy eyeliner and dark, red lips. It made her look angry. Actually, that may have actually been her face, not the makeup.

“Miss Stewart, this is Mr. James Barnes. He’s your bodyguard and he’ll be staying here until your situation is handled,” Jasper said, his voice somewhat sounding more timid than when we spoke in the elevator. I stretched out my arm to take her hand. She accepted, her cool hand easily slipping into mine.

“My very own bodyguard?” she excitedly gripped my hand with her other one. “Golly gee, I feel safer already!” She roughly let go of my hand and her face fell from fake happiness to contempt. “This is fucking ridiculous.” 

“Miss Stewart, your father —”

“Worries too much,” she finished. “Honestly. This is all an over reaction.” 

“Miss Stewart, if that’s the case, then things will go back to normal very soon,” I said.

“Ah, it speaks,” she shot back. She turned and went back to her room, slamming the door in the process . I felt the vein in my neck throb. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s slamming doors.

“She’ll come around,” Jasper said, almost trying to encourage me. I didn’t need it — this was just another job. “You’ll be staying over here in the spare bedroom.” 

He took me to the room I first looked at when I entered the apartment. It was a decent sized room, but crammed full of clothing racks packed with clothes. Must have been a makeshift closest. “I’ll leave you for the night.” 

I walked Jasper to the door and proceeded to bolt it after he left. I looked through the peephole, noting that Chase was still stationed outside. I went back to my new room, setting down my suitcase and duffel bag, and looked around the room some more. There were a couple windows giving me a decent view of the city and a bedside stand next to the bed. I pressed on the bed with my hand — it felt really good. Much better than most of the beds I’d slept on while on these missions. It was decorated with a few throw pillows, all decorated with a fun slogan in fancy script. “Yoga Class? I Thought You Said Pour A Glass” was my favorite.

I scanned the racks of clothes — it was like a kaleidoscope, every color imaginable hanging on the metal rods. There was a weird looking desk sitting in the corner of the room with a padded stool in front of it. I decided to stop snooping in favor of unpacking my suitcase.

Apart from a few coats, the closet was somewhat empty, so I hung up a few of my clothes and folded the rest on a shelf below. I started to unload my duffle bag — which was filled with tech ware and weapons — when there was a knock at my door. I quickly shut the closet door, hiding the weapons, before opening the bedroom door. I wasn’t, however, ready for the version of the woman standing on the other side of it. 

Piper Stewart was wearing nothing but her bra and underwear, barely covered by a short floral kimono that stopped mid-thigh. I couldn’t help it as my eyes took in the lace detailing of the pale blue bra, the way her underwear hung low on her hips or the tiny mole that rested near her belly button. I also took note of a sunflower tattoo on her right hipbone; I could only see the top portion of it, but was suddenly dying to see more.

But that wasn’t what was most heart-stopping. My breath hitched in my throat when I saw her face: clean from all make up, tiny brown freckles running over her nose and her dark green eyes that reminded my of a jade vase my grandmother had. What a weird memory to pull from my brain. 

Piper's hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail, running down the length of her back. She had her arm resting against the door frame, almost inviting me to do more than ogle. That wasn’t going to happen. I quickly snapped my eyes up to her face and set my jaw.

“Settling in?” she cooed. I didn’t say anything, instead, I let her make the spectacle she wanted. “Can I get you anything? I don’t want to be a bad host.”

“Everything is fine, Miss Stewart.”

“Dandy.” She brushed past me and walked into the room, surveying if I changed anything. “If you can, please don’t fuck with my clothes.” 

“Of course not, Miss Stewart,” I spit out between clenched teeth. She really was going to test me, this one. 

“And I like to sleep in on Sundays,” she said to me, turning back to me, unbashfully raking her eyes over me. “I go to brunch at 10. I suppose you’ll have to come too.”

“There’s no brunch tomorrow.”

“What did you say?” 

“I said there’s no brunch tomorrow, Miss Stewart,” I repeated. “Your social outings have been canceled for the time being.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“My father —” she started.

“Will side with me,” I finished for her, just like how she acted with Jasper. 

She pursed her lips together and her eyes turned to slits. She was about to blow. “Fuck you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs before running out of the room, slamming the door in the process.

There goes that fucking vein again.


	3. Day 1 (still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is shorter than normal...

**Chapter 3 • Piper | Saturday, 10:53 p.m.**

I ran across the apartment and flew into my room, slamming the door and flinging myself onto the bed. I let out a scream into my pillow before throwing it across the room. This asshole has been here for an hour and he’s already telling me where I can and cannot go. Who the fuck does he think he is?

I turned to my back and stared at my ceiling. I was still fuming, but my mind drifted to _him_. Rather, his appearance. My father never said this Barnes guy was hot.

He was what every one of those cheesy romance novels described as rugged — right down to his strong, perfect cleft jaw. His brown hair was long — just how long I don’t know, it was slicked back with gel. (Gross, BTW.) He had a bit of scruff, but not too much to where he was a mountain man — just the _right_  amount. He was covered head to toe with his black suit and white button up dress shirt, so I couldn’t really tell his build, but I knew he was more than likely physically fit.

But what struck me most were his eyes. They were piercing blue and hiding under dark, full lashes. I could stare into them for hours, which is pretty fucking weird. Those damn eyes. How was I going to function with him around?

I shook the thought out of my head and reached for my phone. I only had to wait two rings before the voice on the other line rang through.

“Bitch!!! Why are you calling me so late?” Dinah breathily answered. 

“It’s 11. Are you really asleep?”

“I think,” she cleared her throat. “Last night was pretty rough. Guess I’m still trying to sleep it off.”

I rolled my eyes. Dinah looooooved to party. Whether it was Wine Down Wednesday, Thirsty Thursday or Black Out Friday through Sunday, she was always down for a drink. Or seven. But was she lacked in willpower she made up ten fold in friendship. She’s always there for me, ever since high school. She’d go along with every one of my crazy plans, often taking the fall for me.

“So I can’t do brunch tomorrow,” I said, going over to my tossed pillow and picking it back up.

“Why! You know I live for those bottomless mimosas!”

I chuckled. “I know, me too, girl. But I have a new bodyguard and he’s not about fun.”

“He?!” I could actually hear her jumping out of the bed. “What’s he look like?”

“In a word? Hot. In two words? Fucking hot.” I sighed, sitting down at the foot end of the bed. “Looking at him is going to be torture. But when he talks — ugh. He’s already being a dick. I’m restricted to the house, basically. 

“So no girls night on Wednesday? Or Friday’s at Kol?”

“Probably not.”

“I hate him!”

“Get in line, babe.”

“Well if you can’t come out, we’ll just bring the party to you,” Dinah said, rustling something on her end of the line. “I’ll call Jase and we’ll be over at your place around 10. You make the frittata and I’ll bring all the booze!”

I rolled my eyes, “of course you will!" 

“See ya bitch!”

I ended our call and got up, taking off my bra and putting on an old Harvard t-shirt on. It was an old boyfriend’s — hated him, but loved the shirt so much that I stole it after I dumped him. I skipped the pajama pants tonight, I was still pretty warm over my interaction with Barnes. My thoughts drifted to him. I wondered if he was still awake. Or how he was sleeping - he seemed like a shirtless guy. Maybe even nude. 

“Fuck,” I mumbled to myself, turning over on my stomach. This guy was going to be the death of me.


	4. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad the last one was so short, so here's an early update!

**Chapter 4 • Bucky | Sunday, 8:27 a.m.**

My alarm had already gone off over an hour ago, but I shut it off and stayed in bed. I didn’t hear any activity in the apartment, so decided to wait it out. The first morning of a mission is always awkward — do I roam around the place like I own it? Just start opening the cupboards?

I don’t have to debate over the question long. I hear some pans clanking and drawers shutting. I get up, throw on a pair of jeans and grab my favorite long sleeved shirt out of the closet. It’s red. I tend to only wear red or black, since it hides my arm.

I look at myself in the mirror before I put my shirt on. I’ve had my prosthetic arm for seven years, but I still sometimes expect to look in the mirror and see the old me. Even though they’ve faded, I can still see the scares around my arm and the implant that holds it in place. They’re white and slightly raised from my skin. Ugly is what they are. I sigh and put the shirt on, then grab my black glove and put it over the metal hand. I scan the room to make sure none of my guns are out of place before I leave the room.

Piper is cutting up green pepper on the kitchen island, having not yet noticed I’m in the room. I take the opportunity to study her — she’s still makeup-free, but wearing black leggings and a long grey sweater with buttons running up the arm. Her hair is up in a bun, but the ends are sticking out. She glances up and notices me.

“Good morning,” she mumbles, glancing back down to the knife in her hand. She beings chopping a tomato.

“Good morning, Miss Stewart,” I respond.

“I have friends coming over for brunch, since I can’t go out,” she said, not asking me; more like informing me.

“I don’t think visitors are a good idea.”

She begins chopping the tomato a little bit rougher. “I don’t think I asked for your opinion. They’re my friends.”

“Names?”

“What?” she stops. 

“What are their names?” I took out my phone and hit the number one on my speed dial.

“It’s been twelve hours — giving up already?” the voice on the other line said in place of a “hello.” Sam. I could almost see his cocky smile, too. 

“I need background checks on —” I paused, looking up to Piper. Her mouth was agape. I waved my right hand at her, prompting her.

“Uh — Dinah Miller and Jason Graves,” she supplied. 

I repeated the names and waited for the results. “Dinah Elizabeth Miller, Caucasian, twenty-two, born in Maine, resides at 345 Connecticut Avenue. She does have a disorderly conduct charge for public intoxication, but nothing serious.” Sam laughed. “Looks like she was found at a park at night on the swing. No one was around.”

“And Mr. Graves?”

“Jason Elton Graves, African-American, twenty-one, born in Macon, Georgia, also resides at 345 Connecticut Avenue. No record. What the?” he stopped.

“What?”

“He’s a performer,” Sam started laughing. “Drag. I love her friends!”

“Thanks.” I hung up as Sam continued to laugh. I looked over at Piper, who still had the same look on her face. “Your friends are cleared to come up. But in the future, please run it by me before you invite anyone else.”

“Oh I’m sorry — but I thought this was my home?”

“I’m just doing my job,” I replied, moving to the kitchen, peering into the fridge.

“There’s not much in there. I don’t do a whole lot of cooking,” Piper smirked. “Unless you count ordering from Postmates as cooking?”

I chuckled to myself and grabbed the half gallon of milk out of the fridge.

“You might want to smell that first,” Piper said, putting her chopped up vegetables in a pan. She set it on the stove. “Glasses are in here.”

I sniffed the milk — it was good — and poured it in a glass.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy drink just milk,” Piper said, her eyes on the glass of milk. Then I noticed her eyeing my glove. Damn it.

Before either one of us could say anything, there was a knock on the door. I cut Piper off and answered it myself, letting in Dinah and Jason.

“Oh my damn,” Jason stood in front of me while Dinah walked into the apartment and over to Piper. “You are gorgeous, honey.”

“Uh, thanks.” I mumbled.

Jason continued to look me up and down holding his chin in his hand. He pointed at my glove. “It’s a little Michael Jackson, but I can work with that.”

He spun on his heels and joined the girls at the island. I watched as he placed a kiss on Piper’s cheek and helped Dinah open the champagne. “Mr. Bodyguard, you want a mimosa?”

“No thanks,” I said, shutting and locking the door, noting that there was a new secret service officer in place. “I don’t drink.”

“I’ll drink his!” Dinah offered. 

Piper rolled her eyes and turned back to the pan. Somewhere during their entrance she cracked eggs in the pan. I couldn’t help but sneaking a view of her round bottom as she bent down to carefully place the pan in the hot oven. I shook my head of the thought.

“So what’s your story?” Dinah asked.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to share it, Dinah!” Piper whispered.

“No, I don’t mind,” I replied. “What do you want to know?”

“Where were you born?” Dinah asked before taking a large sip of her mimosa.

“Brooklyn.”

“You look Italian.”

“Romanian, actually. My mother’s side.”

“Married?”

“No.”

“Kids with any one-night stands?”

“Nope.”

“How long have you been a bodyguard?”

“Six years.”

“Before that?”

“Military. I joined when I was 18; left when I was 25.”

“Do you like your job?”

“I love it.”

“Are you good at it?”

“Jesus, Dinah,” Piper stopped the banter. “It’s like you’re a fucking firing squad.”

“I love watching her like this,” Jason added.

Dinah smirked at me, ignoring her friends. “Sorry. It’s a habit. I’m studying journalism.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. And yes. I am the best at my job.”

All three of their eyes were on me, but something about Piper’s look hit me a certain way. Like she almost looked scared or unsure of me. In time, she would see.

“Any leads on our dear, sweet Piper’s case?” Dinah ran the back of her hand across Piper’s cheek. She swatted it away.

“Not yet, I’m afraid. But I’ve only been here for half a day.”

“You guys are so dramatic,” Piper butted in.

“We’re looking out for you!” Jason bit, pouring himself another mimosa. “No one should have to live in fear of answering their phone.”

Piper went to respond, but I cut her off. “What do you mean?”

He swallowed before responding. “This freak would call her at all hours of the night, then it was during the day — anytime. She would change her number, but then a few days later, the calls would start back up.”

“Jason.” Piper warned. The timer on the oven went off. Jason took the opportunity to use the distraction to talk to me.

“I answered the phone a couple times. All the dude would do is breathe heavily.” He glanced over at Dinah. “I think one time I heard him whacking off.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Dinah spat. She then took her turn, leaning forward over the counter so I could hear her whisper. “She had a note one time on her car. It said something like, “‘I’ve loved you for sixty-seven days’ or something like that. It freaked her out.”

Piper turned back to us and set the frittata on a hot plate. I watched her as she pulled out fruit from the fridge and placed it next to the pan. I could tell she was trying to ignore the way the conversation drifted to her stalker. But I could also see it worried her. There were some lines under her eyes and the corners were a bit dark — not too noticeable to the untrained eye. It was obvious this was keeping her awake at night.

The conversation switched to their classes and Jason’s upcoming drag shows. I didn’t know much about that world, but it sounded interesting. And painful.

For not being a “good cook,” Piper’s frittata was tasty. I had two helpings, while the trio was a little bit heavier on the bubbly. After a couple hours the trio were starting to laugh a lot more; the mimosas were definitely kicking in. I was about to take my leave to my room when I heard a phone go off, followed by Dinah pitching a fit.

“This! This is what I’m fucking talking about!” I turned around and watched the interaction. Dinah was getting up from her place on the floor of the living room with a phone in her hand, while Piper was gripping her ankles, trying to keep her from getting to me.

“Don’t, Dinah! You don’t need to interfere.”

“Fucking look at this!” she thrust the phone in my face. I grabbed it from her and read the message from an unknown number.

_“I’ve loved you for 145 days. When will you love me?"_


	5. Day 3

**Chapter 5 • Piper | Monday, 8:43 a.m.**

I quickly threw my books in my bag, topping it off with a couple granola bars and my purple Hydroflask. I had been up for four hours, which included an hour of yoga and half an hour of meditation, but was still pissed. I kept thinking about last night, when Dinah forced Bodyguard Barnes to read the message from the creep.

He confiscated my phone for the time being and had the text sent on to his company to analyze. It wouldn’t matter, the number would change every few days anyways. This person somehow always found my number.

_“Honestly, it’s harmless,” I told Barnes._

_“Harmless? How is this harmless, it’s harassment,” he snapped._

I mean really, it is harmless. There’s never been any contact. I’ve never really felt like anyone was near me, ready to attack. But I guess that fear of “what if” has kept me up at night. Maybe it’s not so harmless….

Anyways, after Barnes went all Super Soldier on me, he kicked Jason and Dinah out.

_“Are you fucking kidding me? They’re_ my _friends! In_ my _house!” I yelled at him._

_“This is for your safety.”_

_“Kicking my friends out?” He ignored me, which really pissed me off. “You’re an asshole.” I went to my bedroom and was about to shut the door when Barnes spoke up._

_“Don’t slam that!”_

_I slowly turned around and glared at him. Before I knew what I was doing, I felt my hand grip around the oak door, followed by the wind from the force of the door blowing my wisps of hair back. The slam was so satisfying. It gave me goosebumps._

_I stayed in my room the rest of the night._

I did a double-take of my appearance. I was wearing a yellow and blue plaid skirt and a matching blue blouse, paired with a pair of black flats. I kept my hair long and loose, having spent nearly forty minutes blow drying and flat ironing it. It was an “unofficial-official” rule that I always make sure to look decent and presentable when in public, even if it was just going to class. Sometimes paparazzi were known to snap photos of me — when they were having a slow week, obviously — so dressing inappropriately or too casual would never be allowed. Sadly, that meant no sweatpants to my early morning classes.

I exited my room and stopped in my tracks when I saw Barnes. He was wearing black jeans, a black undershirt with another red shirt and a grey jacket over a grey hoodie. His hair wasn’t slicked back as it was the first night we met. Instead, it hung around his face, maybe two inches past his chin and was topped with a black baseball cap.

He looked good. “You look stupid,” I told him.

“The point is to blend in.” He opened the door and waited for me to walk through. I grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and we were on our way out of the apartment. I noticed Clay was stationed outside the door, which meant Chase and the Super Soldier would follow me to class. For the most part, Jasper stayed behind to go over security plans for the day or set up security for the next day. Honestly, I don’t pay too much attention to what the guys do. I have my own problems with my schedule.

“If we’re not allowed to eat out, we’re going to need more food,” I told Barnes, taking a bite from my apple.

“I’ll take care of it.”

The three of us took the elevator to the garage and rode down in silence. I started walking to my car — a Ford Fusion — when I felt Barnes’ hand on my elbow.

“No, we’re taking this,” he pointed toward a black Cadillac Escalade. It was huge and shiny and one hundred percent obvious. Just as if he read my mind, “It fits in around here. Plus, it’s bulletproof.”

“So this thing is taking me to class?”

“Yep,” Barnes opened the door for me, ushering me inside. I huffed out a breath, sliding my bag off my shoulder and climbing in. Clay got in beside me while Barnes took the passenger’s seat. There was a different guy driving the car; he didn’t look like he wanted to talk. Barnes spoke to him in some foreign language and then we were on our way.

Georgetown University isn’t far from my apartment, which was intentional. I had two classes today — Analytical Tools for Political Economy and Culture in Politics. Well, those are the only two classes I have in person. The rest are online. Believe me, if was a fight to even get to go to two classes.

We soon arrived to campus and the car dropped me off at the rotunda. Like normal, Clay follows me into the building. Barnes, however, walked right next to me, surveying the area. We walked in silence to Hall D and I took my normal seat in back. Clay stood behind the row while Barnes took the seat next to me. It was a rather large class — space was limited.

Class began when Professor Whitmore stepped from the door at the front of the room. He was probably in his 50s, a short man with salt and pepper hair and a really sweet mustache. When he wasn’t teaching at Georgetown or writing books on politics, he was a political analyst for ABC and its affiliate stations. He’s my favorite teachers — which is why I’ve taken all of his classes, both in-person and online.

“I enjoyed all of your essays on the link between policy preferences and policy outcomes,” he started. He picked up a few papers and briefly read his favorite lines. I perked up when he read the last one, mine. While he read a line or two from the other four selections, he read two paragraphs from mine. “Miss Stewart, I applaud your efforts of going back eight decades to analyze this link. It’s a very in depth look at a complicated topic.”

I smiled at him, feeling a sense of pride. That paper was fucking hard. My smile faltered when a few heads turned back my way, followed by some glaring eyes. I knew what they were all thinking: “who wrote it for her?” “He’s just saying that so her Dad will give him a cabinet job.”

And then I heard, “Of course she could be in-depth, she has all the documents in the White House for her personal use!”

Well..that wasn’t totally untrue.

I shifted in my seat, grabbing my book and turning to the chapter of today’s lecture. As I reached for my book, I took the opportunity to glance at Barnes, who was studying me.

“What?” I whispered.

He shook his head and scanned his eyes around the room. “Nothing.”

The next hour was painful. It was hard to sit there and pay attention, let alone even pretend to pay attention. I could feel the heat radiating off from Barnes. He also smelled really good. I would continue to glance over at him during the lecture, but his eyes were always looking somewhere else in the room.

Class ended with all of us going up front to retrieve our papers. I grabbed my things in the process, nodding to Barnes that we were moving up closer. My next class is in the same room, but it’s smaller, so I can be up front.

“Miss Stewart, I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of copying your essay for my own records,” Professor Whitmore said, handing me back my paper. I smiled at the rather large “A” written in red. “I am toying with the idea of writing a book on the same topic and would love to reference some of this material, if you don’t mind.”

“No, not all all, professor. Thank you.”

I turned to go back to my seat when I bumped into Barnes’ chest, catching myself with my hands. I didn’t realize he was right behind me. “Sorry.” God, his chest was rock solid.

Ignoring me, he extended his right hand to Professor Whitmore and introduced himself as James Barnes.

“It’s a bit late in the semester to add a class,” he stated, rather than asked. Barnes smiled.

“I’m here for Miss Stewart’s security,” he supplied.

“Well, that makes sense. You look built for that, not politics.”

Barnes chuckled this time. “You can say that again. This isn’t my world.”

Professor Whitmore opened his briefcase and began prepping for his next class, which started in about two minutes. “Well, maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two in your time here.”

As my other classmates filed in to the room, I grabbed the granola bars from my bag. Barnes happily accepted his — his fingers grazing my hand — and ate it in three bites. I, on the other hand only ate half of it by the time class started.

My Culture in Politics class is more of a discussion than lecture. There’s no “homework” or tests here, but we’re all encouraged to have an open discussion. Today’s topic — an extended one from last week, since it got so heated — was social media use on the campaign trail.

“I don’t care, you’re spreading your agenda like fire before you’re elected,” this one idiot — Brad — said, arguing against it. Another girl, Mandy, chimed in arguing against him, but didn’t really make her point concisely. Brad then went on another diatribe.

I couldn’t help it. I looked over at Barnes — who was stifling a yawn — and rolled my eyes. Even he had to see how big of an idiot this guy was. He smiled, probably the first real smile I had seen from him. I just had to speak up.

“So when Nature’s Valley granola bars talks about their conservation efforts are they pushing their agenda? Or when McDonald’s thanks people for donating to the Ronald McDonald House, their secretly controlling our minds?” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not ‘getting ahead.’ It’s building a brand. Candidates are the brand. And that shouldn’t be confused with being phony.”

I looked around at my other classmates, who were all intently watching me.

“There’s a balance and even an art to remaining transparent and authentic in how you use your social platforms, while still taking care to include talking points that lead back to a specific goal or set of goals,” I finished. “We deserve to know who or what our candidates advocate for.”

“Very well said, Miss Stewart,” Professor Whitmore said.

“I agree,” Mandy supplied. Great, glad to know I have her support. 

Class ended a few minutes early, which was fine by me. I had my fill of Brad for the day. Barnes and I were up from our seats and about to walk out from our row when the idiot grabbed my arm, rather roughly, startling me. The Super Soldier was right there, placing his hand over Brad’s and ripping it from my arm. “There’s no need to touch Miss Stewart.”

Brad yanked back his hand, rubbing it. “Jeez, I was just going to ask if she wanted to debate this more over coffee.” He looked at me. “I didn’t know this goon belonged to you.”

“She won’t be joining you,” Barnes supplied, gently cupping my elbow and putting myself before him.

We were out of the classroom and almost out of the rotunda when I spoke up. “I could have handled that myself, you know!”

“I know,” Barnes said, pushing the door open for us.

During the altercation, if you can call it that, Barnes’ jacket opened a little wider, giving me a peak of his holster. I’ve been around enough secret service to know what a gun and holster looks like, and it was definitely one of those. But for some reason, it just now occurred to me that he was probably carrying a gun. And that suddenly bothered me.

“Do you have a gun on you?” I whispered. Instead of verbally confirming, he opened the right side of his jacket a little wider, revealing the handle of a black handgun. My eyes went wide and went to his face, which was void of emotion. “Shit.”

We — joined by Clay — walked out in silence and loaded in the monster truck. The ride was rather quiet, apart from Barnes saying a few words to the driver. He then glanced back at me and attempted to break the tension. “That Brad guy is a moron.”

I suppressed a smile. “Hey now, not everyone can be lucky enough to have more than four brain cells.”

Barnes smirked and went back to looking out the window.

When we got back to the apartment, we found Jasper helping another gentleman unloading groceries in the fridge and cabinets. From the looks of it, I had enough food to feed a small army. Well, considering how large Barnes is, he is the army. Jasper and Barnes were talking about something, so I took the opportunity to change out of my skirt and blouse into something comfier. That’s when I noticed my bedroom.

“Um, excuse me?” I shouted, more so to Barnes than anyone else. “Where the hell is my door?”

Everyone was looking at me and it was a couple beats before anyone spoke. Barnes walked over to me, stopping a few feet in front of me. “I told you not to slam the door last night.”

“So you took it?!” He nodded. “You just took my door?” He nodded again. “How am I supposed to change clothes — in front of you now?”

“You still have a bathroom door,” he cautioned. “But if you start slamming that one, it’ll go, too.”

“My father —”

“Gave me permission,” he finished for me. “And thought it was quite hilarious.”

My blood was boiling. I felt it rising up from my toes, flowing through my legs and arms and then, my mouth. I wanted to scream, I wanted to say the loudest “FUCK YOU” I could ever imagine. I swallowed it, not wanting to go ballistic with other people in the room. I mean, I could care less what fucking Jasper thought, but this poor old guy who was helping unload groceries, he didn’t need to see this.

Instead, I took two steps toward him, so I was practically eye-level with him. Well, give or take four or five inches. “You’re an asshole.”

“Just doing my job,” he bit back. I noticed his jaw was clenched and a vein in his neck was bulging.

I stared at him for a few more seconds before retreating to my doorless room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.filmstaroutfits.com/civil-war-bucky-barnes-cotton-jacket
> 
> This picture of Bucky was in my mind with this chapter. *insert drool emoji here*


	6. Day 3 (still)

**Chapter 6 • Bucky | Monday, 7:02 p.m.**

Piper came out of her room later that night, more than likely due to the smell from the dinner I was making: spaghetti and meatballs. The meatballs were a Romanian secret from my mom and one of the only things I could make without a recipe.

“Hope you’re hungry,” I told her.

“Fuck you,” she retorted, grabbing a big bottle of vodka from a cupboard near the fridge. She gabbed ice from the freezer and threw a few cubes in the glass before filling it to the rim with vodka.

“Don’t know how you’re going to eat a ‘Fuck you,’” I said. I flicked the stove burner off and grabbed two nearby plates, putting a generous portion on each plate for both of us. I handed her the plate, which she stared at for a few seconds. 

“If I was going to poison you, this wouldn’t be the way I would do it,” I offered. She then looked up at me and squinted her eyes before accepting the plate.

We both took seats at the kitchen island, eating our food in silence. It was a few minutes before Piper broke it.

“This is actually pretty good,” she softly said. I thanked her and we went back to eating until she spoke again. “Any chance of getting my phone back?”

“No,” I said.

“How am I suppose to call my Dad?”

“He has my number if he wants to call. Or you can call him on my phone.” I looked at her, my eyes drawn to the tiny freckles that dotted her nose. “Why, do you need to talk to him.”

“No. Just wondered.” She cleaned her plate and put it in the dishwasher while I went back for seconds. “Are you going right to your room after dinner?”

“No?”

“I need to work in there, if that’s okay?” she sounded really timid. If this was her two hours ago, she would have more or less told me she was going to be in there and for me to fuck myself.

“Uh, okay. Yeah sure.” I took another bite of my spaghetti. “Just don’t look in the closet.”

She went to her room and came out with her hair in a messy bun and a pad of paper under her arm. She gave a small smile and went into the room, leaving the door halfway open. I went back to my plate of food, then did the dishes.

I could hear a whirring, kind of like a machine, as well as some sort of folk music softly playing. I continued to clean the kitchen — something Piper obviously hadn’t done in a while — for another hour before I decided to venture into the room to see what she was doing. I wasn’t expecting what I saw.

She was hunched over a sewing machine, feeding some sort of turquoise material through the needle. I waited until she finished her line before clearing my throat. She jumped with a little shriek.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” I leaned against the doorframe. “I heard some weird noises in here so thought I would check it out.”

“If it’s all the yelling, it’s because my stupid needle keeps dropping the thread,” she huffed out a breath and turned back to the machine, grabbing the fabric from it. She held it up to inspect it, revealing some sort of pants. She could sense my curiosity. “My mother taught me the basics when I was young. After she died,” Piper paused, swallowing a lump in her throat from the looks of it. “I read books and taught myself more.”

“That’s amazing.” She shrugged her shoulders. I looked around the room, suddenly realizing all the clothes in here were probably made by her. “Did you make all of these?”

“Yeah,” she looked around the room and pointed to the farthest rack. “Well, not all of those — some of those were my mother’s.”

Before I could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. I left my spot from the door frame and went to answer it. I was taken aback to see Steve on the other side of the door.

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” I answered. He answered by handing me a manilla enveloped and walking into the apartment.

“Thought you should see these.”

I shut the door — noting Chase was out there — and opened the envelope. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I saw the contents: black and white photos of Piper. More specifically, her in her underwear and that damn short kimono. These photos were taken from just the other night, when Piper was trying to get under my skin. And it looked like they were taken from the next roof over.

I then noticed the writing on the last photo, which showed a better view of her face. There was a red line drawn over her chest, showing me to a hand written message, “Thanks For The Show.” 

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“They came to us at the office,” Steve supplied. “So whoever sent this, knows who we are and that we’re here.”

I was still looking at the photos when Piper came out of the room. “Oh, hi. I thought I heard voices.”

Steve walked over to her and reached for her hand while I hid the photos behind my back. “Hi, Miss Stewart. I’m Steve Rogers.”

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you,” she sweetly said. She genuinely sounded like she was happy to meet him, too. I looked at her, and felt a little wounded by the look she was giving him. Most women had the same looks on their faces for Steve. For as long as I’ve known him, women have always fawned over him. Piper was no different.

“Are you done in there?” I asked her. She looked over from Steve to me, almost annoyed that she was interrupted. She nodded and went to her room.

I went into my room, opened the closet and retrieved my Piper file. I added the photos to it before bringing it out and showing everything to Steve. We began sifting through the information looking for any blaring clues.

“This guy is a real whack job,” Steve supplied. “Goes from sending stalker notes to an anthrax letter to pictures? He’s all over the place.”

“Nothing says it’s a ‘he.’ And nothing says it’s one person,” I huffed out a breath.

“You think there’s two of them?”

I shrugged and shut the folder. “I don’t have much to go on besides this. It’s real hot and cold, mainly cold.”

Steve slapped my back with his hand, cuing his leave. “Sorry, Bucky. Looks like this one will take a bit longer than we thought.”

I walked my friend out and thanked him for coming over so late. I locked the door and turned back to find Piper with a stupid smile on her face.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought your name was James?!” she giggled.

“It’s a nickname. From my middle name,” I supplied. “James Buchanan.”

She laughed. If she wasn’t making fun of me, I would have thought it was cute. “Buchanan! Boy, did your mom hate you.”

“It’s a family name. And only my friends call me it.” I don’t know why I bothered, really. I rolled my eyes and went back into my room, making sure the closet doors were closed. I sensed her hesitation earlier when she saw the gun in my chest holster. I could only imagine the freak out she would have when she saw her closet now being used as a weapons and ammunition shed.

When I walked back out into the kitchen, I openly cursed, realized she was standing over the island, looking at her file.

“Miss Stewart,” I calmly said, gently touching her arm, which was holding the newest photos of her. In her other hand was the picture of the anthrax letter.

“It had my name on it,” she whispered. She turned around to me, her green eyes filling up with tears. “I-I never knew about any of this.”

I took the photos from her hands and place them back on the counter, turning her body away from it. “You’re safe now, Miss Stewart.”

“I just thought I was getting weird phone calls. Why did I never know about the rest of it?”

“I don’t know why they didn’t tell you.” My hands were finding their way up her arms and resting on her shoulders. What an awful way to find out the real story. “They probably didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m going to bed,” she mumbled, stepping out of my grasp. She went into her room and I could hear drawers slamming and water running. Even though it wasn’t my idea, I felt bad about keeping the information from her. She did have the right to know what she was facing. I felt two inches tall.

After a few minutes I went over to her room and tapped my knuckles on her doorframe. She was climbing into bed when I walked in. “Are you okay?”

She gave me a half-smile. “As good as I can be, despite just finding out my stalker is more like a killer.”

“I promise you, Miss Stewart, I will find this fucker and make sure he — or she — pays,” I told her, feeling my heart rate rise during my vow. I’ve always wanted a positive outcome in my missions, but for some reason, this one really got me. It wasn’t fair Piper had to endure all of this harassment. She was just a kid.

She didn’t say anything — she didn’t need to. But when I turned to walk out of her room, I heard her mumble a small “thank you,” followed by another word that made my heart flutter.“Bucky.”


	7. Day 5

**Chapter 7 • Piper | Wednesday, 1:47 p.m.**

I didn’t fall asleep until nearly four a.m. Tuesday morning — and only because I ended up taking a sleeping pill around three. I kept thinking about Bucky’s — I mean, Barnes’ — file on me. There were so many more letters than I thought — twenty more, to be exact — and the pictures. It made me sick to my stomach, knowing someone was just a few hundred feet away, watching me through a lens.

But what I felt most was betrayal. My father knew and didn’t say a word. Chase, Clay. Fucking Jasper. Hell, Barnes, too. They all knew and kept it from me. Why didn’t they think I should know too?

Thanks to the pill, I ended up sleeping until nearly 10 a.m. I could have slept longer, but the buzzing from some power tools woke me up. I bet if I would have had a door I could have slept longer.

I kept my sweatpants on and put a sweatshirt over my tank top before walking out to the living room, stopping in my tracks. There was a small army all over my apartment. Five men were installing thick looking floor-to-ceiling blinds while three men and two women were installing cameras all over the apartment. Bucky was talking to a woman by the kitchen island, with a silver laptop between them. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, a small little piece sliding out as he nodded his head in agreement with something.

He looked up and noticed me. I walked over to him as soon as he was done speaking with the woman. He tried to greet me with a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those beautiful damn eyes.

“So you must be Santa with all these elves.”

“I guess,” he smirked. “I’m sure you’re hating all this, but it has to be done. For your safety.” I nodded, which shocked him, I think. “No argument?”

I opened the fridge and grabbed some orange juice. I could kill to get some champagne added in it. Whoops… “None from me.”

Bucky showed me the laptop, which showed feeds from twelve cameras: four in my apartment/terrace and two in the hallway. The other six feeds tapped in to what my apartment complex already had on the roof, elevator, lobby and outside of the building. He also told me the blinds were remote controlled, but they would stay down until this was all figured out. He also recommended closing them at night when all was said and done.

“Sounds like someone’s mad their show wasn’t just for them,” I mumbled into my orange juice. Bucky’s eyes went wide and he snapped his head to me. I laughed and walked away, but not before slapping his shoulder.

My Tuesdays were spent reading and working on assignments for my four online classes, while I worked at my sewing machine that night. Bucky kept a steady eye on the camera — more so because it was a new toy, I think — and poured himself over the file.

Wednesday started out normal with my two classes. However, that afternoon was a bit different. I was scheduled to read some books the local elementary school, which was just a few blocks away from the Georgetown campus. Normally I would have walked, but given the recent stalker climate, I was driven there.

“So, why are we still doing this social event?” I asked no one in particular, checking that my makeup still looked somewhat decent in a small compact I kept in my bag.

“Your father asked that you still keep this appearance,” Bucky responded.

Of course he did. Usually the First Lady saw through an initiative or two during her duration in D.C. Since Mr. President was a lifelong bachelor and there was no Mrs. Vice President, that duty sort of fell to me. And let’s be honest, my Dad thought it would only look great for his campaign as President — “if I ever thought about doing that.” Oh, please.

Anyways, I decided to highlight literacy, with the goal to increase reading scores by the time students entered middle school. Over the past seven years, I challenged all one hundred and eleven elementary schools in D.C. to read 1,000 books. Every year, I went to each school to check in and read them a couple books. This week it was just one school, Stevens Elementary School.

But honestly, I really did enjoy it.

We pulled up to the school and I smiled at the banner that was draped across the entryway. “Welcome Miss Piper!”

“Wish I had my cellphone to take a picture.”

Bucky responded by getting out of the passenger seat and opening my door. He was dressed in the same outfit from the first night we met. I had to give him credit, he dressed up for the occasion. Or maybe he only had three outfits. Whatever.

I slipped on my heels before tossing my bag in the seat next to me. Before I totally exited the car, I grabbed my lukewarm campus coffee from the cupholder. I had twelve minutes to drink it before I read my first book.

“Stand here,” Bucky told me. Before I could question him, I noticed he was taking his phone out of his pocket. He was going to take my photo in front of the school and banner. He didn’t even have to tell me to smile; there was already a huge one on my face. “Say ‘books!’”

“Books!” My heart fluttered.

After taking the photo, we walked up the steps to the front of the school. Bucky was a step ahead, probably so he could grab the door for me. I was too busy watching him — okay, his butt — to notice the small hole in the sidewalk, which my heel perfectly fit in.

“Shit!” I yelled as my foot became stuck, snapping my heel and causing me to spill my coffee all over myself. Thank god it wasn’t piping hot.

Bucky was right by my side. “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” I looked down at my white blouse, which was now splotched with the tan liquid. I looked like a fucking Rorschach inkblot test. It was dripping in little beads down my shirt and to my skirt. Thankfully my pencil skirt was black. “How the hell am I supposed to read in front of kids and cameras looking like this?”

“Come on, let’s go inside. We’ll figure it out.”

Bucky bent down and gently wrapped his right hand around my ankle, my pulse quickening at the feel of his fingertips on my skin. I held in a smile as his gloved hand traveled up my calf, like he was trying to guide my leg out from the hole, when we both knew I could have just taken my shoe off. Eventually, I was freed, but my shoe was completely ruined.

“See ya, Jimmy Choo.” I stood up straight, wobbling thanks to the three inch height difference between my shoes. Bucky laughed before grabbing my other foot and slipping the shoe off. I watched as he took the shoe in his right hand and the heel in his gloved left, working it back and forth. The heel easily snapped off in his strong hands, creating a pair of flats. “Hm, add shoe designer to your resume.”

“Let’s call that Plan B.”

I took my shoe back from Bucky and slipped it on. “Now what to do about the shirt?”

“Let’s go in, first.” We entered the school, checking in at the office. “Is there a bathroom she could change in?” The receptionist pointed us down the hall.

“Uh, how can I change? I have nothing to change in to.”

Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, he walked into the men’s bathroom and looked around. He waved me in, shutting and locking the door behind us. Before I could ask what was going on, he took off his black jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt. My mouth went dry and there was a slight buzzing sound in my ears. Why did I suddenly feel the need to lick my lips?

My sudden urge to help Bucky take off his shirt — and do more, if you know what I mean — disappeared once I saw what he was hiding underneath it. And I’m not talking about the muscles, or his bulletproof vest. “Y-you have a prosthetic.”

Bucky looked from me to his metal arm. “I do.” The arm was was solid black with a intricate gold patterned design over where his biceps would be and gold stripes on the forearm. It was quite beautiful and detailed. I resisted the urge to touch it, accepting Bucky’s shirt instead.

I stumbled over my words. “I-I didn’t know.”

“I don’t go around advertising it.”

“Holy shit.”

“You better change, Miss Stewart.” I suddenly felt like the biggest dick in the word. I turned to go into one of the stalls, trying to ignore the pounding in my chest. “What no show?”

I ignored Bucky and his attempt to lighten the mood. I shut the stall door behind me and rested my back against it. Holy fuck. It all made sense — the black leather glove he always wore and why I thought his arm was so hard when I playfully slapped his shoulder yesterday. I shook my head from all my thoughts and changed out of my coffee stained shirt to Bucky’s.

It was a little big, but it fit pretty well after I tucked it into my skirt. I closed my eyes as I deeply inhaled his sent. There was a touch of sandalwood from his cologne and sage from his J.Crew shampoo, which I saw sitting in his shower the other day. (What, can’t a girl snoop in her own apartment?) There was another smell that was distinctly him.

I blew out a breath and exited the stall, smiling at Bucky. He had his black jacket back on, but this time, zipped up, revealing just a peak of his white undershirt. You would never have known he didn’t have a proper shirt on. “You literally just gave me the shirt off your back.” Bucky shrugged. “Thank you.”

He silently walked over to the bathroom door, unlocked it and held it open for me. “Time to read, Miss Stewart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I'm going with Bucky's Wakandan arm, not his Hydra arm. :)


	8. Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna get a bit ~sexier~  
> This one is also in two parts, because it was SO long.

**Chapter 8 • Bucky | Friday, 8:02 p.m.**

Six days I’ve been living in the Vice President’s daughter’s apartment. Six fucking days with barely a crack in this case. To say I was frustrated was an understatement. The longest mission I ever had was four days — and that was with one day counted toward travel.

I was in my usual spot: the kitchen island, hunched over the security laptop. I had all the letters and pictures spread out and was still trying to piece something together. Well, not all the pictures. The ones of Piper in her underwear were very distracting, so those remained in the file.

I glanced over toward Piper’s room and saw her pacing. My eyebrow curiously raised at what she was doing, but I turned back to my work. I had to admit, our relationship was improving, considering where we started at last week. Don’t get me wrong, she’s still not thrilled I’m here, but I think she understands the job I’m trying to do.

I got a few more smiles out of her and a laugh or two. God, her laugh. When she’s really taken back by something, she laughs uncontrollably. Her face gets bright and smile goes wide, almost making her tiny freckles dance. It’s hard for me to not join in.

I went back to my papers, but soon grew frustrated. I was getting nowhere at all. I decided to maybe call it a night, hoping some sleep would do me good. I looked back over to Piper and watched her pace for a little bit more.

She’s been a bit quiet and to herself since we went to that elementary school. Who knew seeing a prosthetic arm would put her over the edge. I was expecting a hundred questions, but she didn’t bring it up; not even a one. She just simply went into my bedroom to work on her clothes and spent most of Thursday studying or doing homework. It’s not like I was begging to talk about it. So why was I upset she didn’t even ask?

“For Christ’s sake,” I muttered, getting up from the bar. If I had to watch Piper pace for another minute, I was going to lose my mind. “What’s wrong?”

She jumped back. “Jesus.” She huffed out a little breath. “I forgot to get a book from my friend Tara.”

“That’s what’s bothering you?”

“I need this book to finish a research project,” she said. “It’s due Sunday night.”

“Okay, we can go get it tomorrow.”

“Well,” Piper started, wringing her hands together. “She’s leaving for the weekend and won’t be back until Sunday. She works at a cafe over in DuPont. She’s on the closing shift.” I folded my arms, knowing exactly where she was going with this. “Is it possible to go now and get it? She’s only there for another forty minutes. Please! I need this book.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Fine. Let me get my things.”

I called Alexei to bring the car around, which would take about ten minutes. That gave me time to put my work away, as well as put on my holster and grab my Glock. I just finished slipping on my black leather jacket when Piper appeared in the kitchen, carrying her full book bag on her back.

“Why do you need a bag?”

“Oh, I have a couple things for her,” she said. “And I have my laptop. I want her to take a look what I have so far in my analytical thesis. Maybe she can give me some editorial suggestions.”

I nodded, not really understanding what this was all about. I didn’t go to college, let alone study anything political. It was all gibberish to me.

We rode to the Dupont Circle Cafe in silence, apart from Piper’s constant fidgeting. She was either smoothing down her hair, playing with the zipper on her jacket or double checking the contents of her bag. I was about to ask her what her problem was when we pulled up to the cafe.

When we entered, Piper greeted some guy named Max before he directed her to the kitchen in the back. “Tara’s back there.”

“Just wait here,” Piper told me. “I’ll be real quick.”

“Okay.” I took a seat at a small high top table in near the kitchen. The Max guy went back to cleaning the machines as I sat in silence. I looked around the cafe, which was decorated with local scenery photographs. I’ve lived in D.C. for a few years now, but never really toured it. Maybe Piper could get me into the White House. Ha. I laughed at my own joke.

As I was looking at a photograph of the Lincoln Memorial, I noticed a lot of people walking by the coffee shop windows. It was rather odd that there were all these people, but none stopping in the coffee shop. “Where are all these people going?”

Max looked up at me, his eyes quickly looking to the floor. It didn’t take a genius to realize he was hiding something. “Uh, I don’t know.”

I looked from him to my watch, noting that Piper had been gone for ten minutes. Max visibly gulped and I then realized something happened. I raced back to the kitchen, finding it empty, apart from Piper’s book bag. My heart dropped to my stomach and panic set in. I grabbed the bag and zipped it open, my fear turning into rage when I noted that the bag was stuffed with the clothes she was wearing on the way over here.

“What the fuck is going on?” I yelled at Max, who was now shaking. All I had to do was walk over to him and put a hand on his shoulder and he confessed to everything.

I marched outside to our SUV, throwing Piper’s bag in the back. I held up the “one minute” finger to Alexei before following the groups of people who were walking three doors down to Kol. I became madder and madder with each step I took.

Max fessed up that Piper and her friends staged a meet up at the cafe, where Tara truly did work, and then snuck over to Kol via the back alley. I bypassed the line out front, pushing my way past the bouncers at the front door. I ignored their shouts and easily slipped out of their grasp. 

Kol was a busy nightclub. People were everywhere throughout the two levels. There was a large crowd dancing on a huge dance floor while some where positioned on mini stages throughout the crowd. There were people at the bar and crammed along the sides of the place, some in tables and some hovering. I wouldn’t even begin to know where to look for Piper. That is, until I heard her very distinct laugh, almost like my body was programmed to react to it. 

I found her in a somewhat secluded, small VIP section just off from one of the mini stages. She was flanked by two people on each side, one of which was Dinah — who probably organized this whole fucking fiasco. I could feel my blood boiling and wanted to just explode. Never in my life had someone disobeyed direct orders — and when their life was on the line, to boot. Of all the dangerous things to do, a packed nightclub had to be up there.

As I took in the scene, a certain part of my body also started to receive an increase of blood flow. Piper was now standing, telling her friends some sort of story and using her body to do so. My breath hitched in my throat when I took in her appearance — hair pulled back into some sort of twist, dark red lipstick swiped across her full lips and a dress that revealed way too much. It stopped just above her knee, but showed off a decent sampling of her chest, thanks to a strategically placed slit running from her collarbone and to just below her breasts. The dress was just begging to be torn in half, revealing just what was underneath.

I shook my head, trying to get the thoughts out. Clearly if I was having this reaction, any idiot in this club was, too. I had to put an end to this. I marched over to the section, trying to think of what exactly to say. However, when I got there, the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “What the fuck?” Clearly, Piper has been rubbing off on me.

Everyone looked at me wide-eyed, except Piper. She knew I would find her. “Well, well, well, the jig is up, everyone.” She smiled, sliding her hands to her hips, trying to appear intimidating. “Don’t tell me, we have to go?”

“Get over here.”

She laughed some more, her movements slow and wobbly. She was already tipsy, probably due to multiple shots in the — oh, thirteen minutes — she was was here.

“Uh oh guys, I think I’m grounded,” she mockingly joked to her friends, who all chuckled. “I’ll admit it, you found me much faster than the other guys.” She laughed again, pissing me off even more. “Usually they take about half an hour.”

Instead of responding, I snapped my left arm out and grabbed her, pulling her close. Her eyes widened and I backed her up against the wall. I put my face close to her so she could hear me, but never raised it to alarm anyone. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you realize the danger you’re in?” I shook her once more. “Do you?”

“You’re hurting me!” She sobbed, trying to snatch her arm away from me. I looked down and realized I was holding her with my metal arm, which gave me a harder grip. I instantly let go, reaching for her with my other arm. She pulled herself away from my reach — which made me feel awful — but still stayed in front of me.

“Of course I realize,” she soberly said, rubbing her arm of where I touched her. “I can’t look at you without being reminded of that.”

“Why did you do that to me?”

“I’m sorry. Really, I am! But you wouldn’t have let me come here on my own.” True. “I need to be here for Jase.” I started shaking my head and was about to say something when Piper interrupted me. “It’s his first time performing as a headliner tonight. You have to understand, he would do anything for me. I need to be here for him.”

She was pleading me to stay, begging me with both her voice and eyes. Both of her hands were now on my right arm, like she was using some emotional power to convince me to let her stay. And fuck, it was working.

“There’s security everywhere, too! Kol has tons of security, you know, because hate crimes and stuff. I swear, this is a really safe place! I come here all the time.”

“If I say yes, do you agree that we leave the second Jason is done?”

Piper squealed and began to hop up and down. My dick twitched in my pants. Seriously, this dress had to go. (Fuck. Wrong imagery to say!) “Yes! I swear! Oh my god!”

Piper grabbed my hand and led me to her private table, introducing me to her friends: Tara, Sean, Cody and of course, Dinah, who was, by the way, smashed. I sat on the end of group’s couch (incase we had to make a run for it) as Piper sat right next to me, our thighs pressed against each other. I did note that the area still had tons of space to claim, but she remained tightly pressed against me.

As the group chatted and drank more drinks and shots — which I tried to deter Piper from partaking in, no thanks to Dinah — I surveyed Kol. There was the exit out front, an emergency exit at the end of the hall where the bathrooms were held and I figured an exit out through the kitchen. I was in the middle of looking around at the windows when I saw the first performing making her way out to the dance floor. Then it occurred to me just what kind of nightclub this was.

Drag. Jason Graves was a drag performer, according to his bio.

The first performer — Beba Reba — was dressed, well, as a more “glittery” Reba McEntire. He — she? — performed a whole routine to three shortened songs. The crowd continued to part and make way for Beba Reba throughout the main part of the club. People were cheering her on as she danced on the floor, climbed on the mini-stages and made her way through the crowd.

“Yas, bitch!” I snapped my head over to Piper, as she was now on her feet and screaming. I just shook my head and held in a laugh. I was somewhat glad to see her acting normal and being herself. This is how normal 21 year olds should act.

Between each performer there was a small break, which gave the group time to get more alcohol in them. At one point, the other four went to the bar or bathroom, leaving Piper and myself at the table.

“Okay, be honest, are you enjoying yourself?” she asked me by putting her mouth to my ear. The music was so damn loud. Which I was suddenly grateful for, because I fucking loved feeling Piper’s lips on me. She slid her arm around my shoulders, more so to hold herself up for support.

“I would never have done this if not for you,” I responded.

She smiled one of her amazing smiles. I then watched as her eyes flicked down to my lips. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’?”

Before I could respond, Dinah interrupted us. “Are you guys making out?”

I felt a blush creep up on my cheeks because of what we must look like, but Piper just gave me a wicked smile before turning to her friend. “We were about to before you ruined it, you fucking cockblocker.” I swallowed hard while Dinah laughed.

“So Mr. Super Soldier,” Dinah started, having taken Piper’s nickname for me as her own. “Has our girl told you what she’s been doing in your room?”

I slightly panicked. My room has a lot of guns.

“Dinah,” Piper warned.

“You know all those clothes in there?” Dinah sat down with a thud. Graceful she was not; unlike my Piper. “She made all those.”

“Yeah, she told me that.” I glanced over at Piper, who just downed another shot instead of responding to Dinah. Then another.

“Yeah, but did she tell you why?” I shook my head. “She’s making them for my fashion show! Well, our fashion show.”

“What?” That was unexpected.

“Yeah! We’re putting on a fashion show to raise money for the local kids hospital here,” she grabbed her drink from the table in front of us, taking a long sip. “One of their wards or units — whatever the fuck they’re called — is being reduced and could be shut down. So we came up with the idea to put on this show to raise money!” Dinah set her drink down and slid closer to us, pinching Piper’s right cheek. Piper smiled and tried to swat her friend away. “For nearly a year this angel has been making clothes almost every day. It’s going to be amazing!”

Dinah kept talking about how she found out about the hospital’s budget cuts, how she came to the idea of a fashion show and how she made the theme, but all I could do was stare at Piper. She was doing the brunt of the work: making all the clothes, finding a location, securing sponsors and making sure big donors were invited. She met my eyes and blushed, almost embarrassed that she was caught. She quickly looked away from me, playing with the straw in her drink instead.

“It’s next Friday, so maybe you’ll want to come,” Dinah said, squealing when the other three finally came back from the bar with a tray of shots.

“What are we all talking about?” Tara asked.

Before Dinah could start over on the fashion show, Piper interrupted.

“Guys! Did I tell you!?” She stood up — not very steadily, I may add — and pointed to me. “Did I tell you? Barnes has an arm!” The four friends all looked at Piper like she had two heads. “Did you hear me? He has an arm!” Her voice was a bit thicker, thanks to all of the alcohol she had consumed.

“Yeah, no fuck he has an arm,” Dinah retorted. “He has two, actually!”

Seeing as no one even noticed my metal hand — I forgot my glove at the apartment — I realized everyone was far past wasted and should probably be cut off. But before I or anyone else could say anything, the lights changed and the DJ announced the final performance of the night — X.E. Tension. The crowd erupted in screams, or maybe that was just the five standing next to me?

Piper leapt to her feet, dragging me up with her. She once again began to bounce up and down, which did nothing to alleviate the hard on she caused earlier. As Jason — uh, X.E. — began to strut down the makeshift runway and to the dance floor, Piper began dancing with the music. Eyes closed, she was swaying and swinging her hips to the beat, totally swept up in the rhythm. It was hypnotic to watch.

She opened her eyes, meeting mine and smiled. She grabbed my hand and tried to get me to join her, but I shook my head and tried to pull away. Instead of letting me she just pulled me to her, tucking herself in front of me. She stumbled a bit when trying to find her footing, my hands finding themselves on her waist to keep her from falling. She leaned back against me and continued to watch and dance along to X.E.’s performance.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was going to be a long twenty minutes.


	9. Day 6 (still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a line from The Winter Soldier in here, because it fits perfectly. See if you can find it! ;)

**Chapter 9 • Bucky | Friday, 11:39 p.m.**

X.E. Tension ended up performing for fifty minutes. Fifty excruciating minutes.

Truly, it was a great performance. The first song was to Madonna’s “Like A Virgin,” which got the crowd going. Jason even spotted me from the stage, so he rushed over, touched my cheek and hopped on the nearby mini-stage. The second through fifth songs were a Lady Gaga medley while he closed with “Kitty Gurl,” a RuPaul song, according to Piper.

It was a very athletic performance: X.E. jumped on the various stages, rolled on the ground, danced with precise and methodic movements and jumped so high in the highest heels I had ever seen. I was exhausted just watching it.

Piper had the time of her life dancing, singing and all-in-all, supporting her friend. When he was over by our mini stage, he made a point to lean down and kiss Piper on the cheek. She swatted his butt in return.

I kept my hands around Piper’s waist for the entire performance. I had to, honestly, because she was very unsteady, despite having cut her off from alcohol before X.E. performed. Every so often she would lean back on me and dance, her butt flirting with my dick. It was painful, and I couldn’t quite figure out if she was doing it on purpose. I tried to think of everything but the sensation I was feeling. But even with my hard work of naming every baseball legend I could think of, I was still sporting a semi. I hoped the group was too drunk to notice.

The show finished around midnight. I stood up and reached down for Piper, but she snatched her hands away from me. I gave her a disapproving look. “You promised.”

“Jase is going to come out and say ‘hi.’ He always does!” She stuck out her lower lip in a plead. “He would love to see you!”

I huffed out a breath and sat back down next to her. How did she have me wrapped around her finger? Seriously, what was I doing? She squealed and clapped her hands, leaning over and placing a kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best Bodyguard Super Soldier ever!”

I suppressed a smile, but inwardly got a thrill over her lips on my cheek, if only for the briefest second. The group chatted as they waited for Jason, but Piper still kept her hands on me somewhere: my arm, shoulder and even my right hand. I knew it was probably due to the alcohol; her inhibitions were lowered. But it felt right.

Jason — still made up as X.E. — came out twenty minutes later and joined the group in the VIP area. Some people from the crowd made their way over, but were sent away by the security team just in front of the area.

“Never in a million years did I expect you to be here,” he told me, smiling wide. “Hope you enjoyed the show, Michael Jackson.” He then looked down and noticed my glove was gone. “Shit….Terminator?”

I smiled. Jason had a way of making me feel comfortable, even in the most uncomfortable situation.

“Pipes, this dress is amazing! I can’t thank you enough,” Jason said, running his hands over the shiny red fabric that stopped mid-thigh. It had large emerald-looking gems around the collar and on the edge of the sleeves, in addition to matching knee-high boots.

“You made this?” I was shocked. It had to of taken a lot of time and effort.

“Yeah, I had to. It’s X.E.’s big debut!”

I was in awe of what this girl could do with a sewing machine. And what she would do for her friends.

Jason stayed for a few more minutes, but then excused himself so he could untuck. I could only imagine what that entailed. The group had decided to go out to the dance floor and dance, but I took the opportunity to grab Piper’s arm and pull her to me. “We’re done.”

“But I want to dance, too!” I shook my head, reaching for her wallet and guiding her to the front door. She started to throw a fit, which really helped me with my semi problem. She ran toward the bathrooms, but I quickly caught up with her given her drunken nature. “I don’t want to go! Why are you such an asshole!”

I snapped. “I’m an asshole? I just let you stay here for four hours, when I should have thrown you over my shoulder and carried you home.”

She straightened and took a step to me, her care-free appearance turning murderous. “I dare you.”

It took less than five seconds for me to lift her up with my left arm and balance her across my shoulder. She screamed — which was cut off by the loud music from the dance floor — and beat her hands on my shoulder and back. I felt none of it, thanks to my metal arm and a permanently numb shoulder. I slipped her wallet in my jacket pocket and calmly walked over to the emergency exit, kicking the door open. I walked out to the alley and rounded the corner, wondering where Alexei was. Then it hit me, and Piper, who was now laughing hysterically.

“Forgot to call the Russian mobster?” she laughed. Her mood suddenly shifted and she was no longer fighting me. I was suddenly aware of just how close her rear end was to my face. And with her short dress, I could easily slip my hand up there. I mean, it was already resting on the back of her thighs. “Put me down, will you?”

“Are you going to run?”

“In these heels?” She drew her left leg back, showing me neon yellow stilettos with a red underside. “No, I’m ready to go home.”

I set her down. I hoped it was graceful and decent. “Then why did you fight me back there?”

“I dunno.” She took off walking down the sidewalk, trying her hardest to look sober. I caught up with her in a few strides, gently taking her arm and making her stop.

“I’ll call Alexei —”

“Let’s walk! It’s a nice night!” she whined. I protested, but she was determined to do her own thing, talking off in the same direction, this time dragging me with her. “Besides, you’re with me so I’m safe!”

I warmed at the thought of her feeling safe with me. We walked for nearly a block in comfortable silence when all of a sudden, Piper stopped in her tracks before quickly turning to me. She had a look of worry on her face, which she covered with her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Those two guys over there,” she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “They’re paparazzi.”

I took a quick look before blocking Piper with my body. They looked like every paparazzi I’ve seen: jeans, a black hoodie, ball cap and a big ass camera hanging in their hands. They must have gotten a tip from someone that she was here. Fuck. This is not what the world — or her father — needed to see.

Tears threatened Piper’s eyes. “My Dad’s gonna be so pissed,” she glanced back at the two men. They hadn’t yet noticed us, but would soon. And it was too late for us to make a run for it; it would have been too obvious. Piper then snapped her head up, her face brightening. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me. Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” she simply said.

“Yes, they do.”

She ignored my hesitation and got on her tip toes, pressing her lips to mine. My head and gut told me no; this was unacceptable, unprofessional and inexcusable. Even though she was technically kissing me, I was taking advantage of the situation; her drunkenness. But damn it, if her lips weren’t the softest. And damn it, she felt so good against me.

After a couple beats, I kissed her back. We parted for a second, grabbing some air before our lips met back together. This time, I took control of the kiss, pushing her back against the nearest building. My hand cupped her face while the other possessively landed on her hips, holding her tightly to me. I pressed my thumb against her hipbone — the place of her sunflower tattoo— and she gasped, allowing me to slip my tongue in her mouth. She was shy at first, but soon her tongue began moving with mine while her hands found a home on my chest.

Fuck, she tasted good. I could taste the rum she had been drinking, but also something minty. I got shivers as her hands slid down my chest and to my waist, resting on my belt.

We made out for probably a good five minutes before I remembered why we were doing so. I reluctantly broke away from the kiss, panting as I surveyed the area around us. The two men were nowhere in sight. The trick worked, if that’s what it was. I turned to look back at Piper, who was still leaning against the building, also trying to catch her breath. Her lips were a bit swollen, which only made me want to kiss her more.

“Let’s go before anyone else shows up,” I said, grabbing her hand in mine.

A couple blocks later, Piper was taking her shoes off, holding them in her free hand as we walked. Three blocks later, I was taking my jacket off and wrapping it around Piper. It wasn’t cold per say; I was just tired of watching the men who passed us do double takes.

We were still nine blocks out when Piper made me stop at a hot dog stand so she could buy two hot dogs, despite my not wanting one. Before she could take a bite of her food, I asked her a question that had been on my mind.

“Does my arm freak you out?”

She balked. “No! God, no!” She looked up at me. “Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been acting differently ever since Wednesday,” I said. “I thought maybe seeing it scared you.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know what to say. I feel bad that something happened to you that made you lost your arm, but I’m sure the last thing you want is sympathy. I dunno, I guess I felt that I didn’t know you well enough to ask you anything.”

I nodded my head, picking up our walking. “You can ask me anything.” Piper was quiet for a moment before she asked how it happened.

IED. I told her about how my unit, the Howling Commandoes, came under attack when serving a special mission in Afghanistan. We were on a train when the bomb went off, throwing me back and pinning me between two of the train cars. I woke up four days later at a hospital in Istanbul, Turkey, having lost too much blood to go any further.

Piper’s eyes were wide as I told the whole story, horrified by what I had gone through. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear that.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“You know what I would do? I would own that shit. You shouldn’t cover it up and hide it,” she said. “You’re a badass and you should show it off.”

Before I could say anything, Piper started walking away from me toward a homeless man sitting against a bank building just up ahead. She smiled as she greeted him, handing her hot dog over. He happily accepted and waved to her as a thank you. I watched in awe as she selflessly gave up the one thing she whined about wanting just a few minutes ago. And instead of bragging about it, she just picked up our previous conversation.

“Can I make a suggestion?” I told her yes. “You need to add color to your life. You would look great in blue. Or purple!”

I laughed. “So says the political major.” 

She shook her head and became serious. “I don’t want to do that.”

“No?”

“No. It made sense to make that my major, given what my dad does. But I’ve always wanted to follow into my mom’s footsteps,” she said, sighing. “I think it just hurts my dad too much.”

“What happened?”

She looked at me almost shocked that I didn’t know. “You don’t know who my mom was? Grace Rae Stewart? She was a model before she became a fashion designer. House of Grace?” I kept shaking my head. I had no idea. There was nothing included about Grace in Piper’s packet. “She gave Christian Louboutin his first job?” She held up the shoes in her hands, like I was supposed to know he designed those. “Seriously?”

“Do you know what a SIG-Sauer is?”

Piper shrugged. “Fair enough.”

She told me about her mom: her gracefulness, humbleness and devotion to her family. She also (very briefly) told me how she died, at the hands of an obsessed fan. She was walking into her studio when she was shot dead on the front steps. The person responsible then killed herself. Piper was only ten at the time.

“We never found out why she did it,” Piper spoke, tears threatening her eyes. “I just wish I had more time with her.”

It suddenly made sense why Mr. Stewart was so obsessed with finding Piper’s stalker. He called me two times a day asking for updates, growing more worried with each phone call.

“Are you going to eat your hot dog?” Piper asked, breaking my thoughts and lightening the mood. I didn’t answer, so she reached for it, but I pulled it away from her grasp.

“Hey, it’s my hot dog!”

“You didn’t even want it!” she laughed, reaching for it. I pretended to put up a fight for it, but relented and handed it over. She took a bite and crinkled her nose. “Ew, relish.”

I scoffed, grabbing it back and taking a bite from the same end Piper took one from. “I’ve seen you eat half a jar of pickles. In one sitting.”

“Relish is different.”

By the time we got to the apartment, around 1:30 in the morning, I had been carrying Piper in my arms for four blocks. I was beat. We rode up the elevator in a comfortable silence and walked down the hall to the apartment, both shocked to see Jasper guarding the door. I had yet to see him take a shift.

“What are you doing here?” Piper snipped. I gave her a look, but was actually a bit curious myself.

He smirked, looking from her to me. “Chase asked for the night off, and Clay has food poisoning. So here I am.”

“Well, thanks for being here,” I said, sliding my key into the lock and opening the door for us.

“Don’t fall asleep!” Piper said in her same tone, right before I closed and locked the door.

“Why are you like that?” I harshly whispered. “He’s just doing his job!”

“I don’t fucking like him,” she declared, throwing her shoes on the floor and marching toward her room. “I don’t trust him! Call it a hunch. Jesus! My room is a mess!” I rolled my eyes and picked up my jacket from the floor. I then noticed Piper was making a trail of clothing from where we stood to her bedroom. Her dressed was draped over the couch, while a strapless bra was near her bedroom door. I turned away fearing what I would see. 

Instead, I heard water running; the shower. I took the momentarily break to change out of my clothes for a pair of sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. I then grabbed a bottle of water, trying to keep my thoughts out of the gutter. Instead, I kept thinking about our make out session. Was it real? Or all totally fake? It certainly felt real.

My reverie was broken when I heard Piper. “I think I’m going to be sick. The room is spinning.”

I entered her room, taking account of how clothes and pillows were everywhere. I grabbed a trash can she had in the corner of her room and placed it by her bed. I also put a bottle of aspirin and the bottle of water on her side table. Once I set the water down, she grabbed my hand and pulled herself up into the sitting position. “Stay with me.”

“That’s not a good idea,” I said, reluctantly pulling my hand back. Truly, that was the worst idea in the history of ideas. There would be no way I could keep my hands off of her.

She flopped back in her bed and glared her eyes at me. “Just until I fall asleep.”

For what felt like the hundredth time tonight, I gave in. But instead of crawling in the bed like she was hoping, I planted myself on the nearby chaise lounge. Next to a small pile of clothes.

“I swear my room wasn’t this much of a pit when we left,” she mumbled. Sleep soon overtook her, yet I remained on the chaise, listening to the rhythm of her breathing until I myself fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all those who have read and given kudos! Please leave a comment, if you'd like! :)


	10. Day 9

**Chapter 10 • Piper | Monday, 2:13 p.m.**

I woke up Saturday with the worst headache and the driest mouth. There was an empty glass by my bed when I woke up, which did me no good. I choked down a couple aspirin and struggled to get on my feet. Barnes was up — he had been for four hours already — and hard at work on the case. He kept his eyes on me as I walked into the kitchen, getting myself a big glass of ice water, a stupid smirk playing on his lips.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. I grumbled in response, causing him to chuckle. “Do you remember much from last night?”

I hesitated.

I remembered everything, actually. Him holding my hips while I danced against him (and his dick getting hard and pressing against me), our hand holding, my inviting him into my bed and the kiss. My god! That kiss. I have to admit, it worked to get those bloodsucking paparazzi away from us, but it was so much more than I ever imagined. Once I started kissing Bucky, I didn’t want to stop. I think he felt the same too. At least, I hoped he did.

But I couldn’t admit that I was starting to feel something for this guy, who was literally being paid to protect me. Once my case was solved, he would be gone. And then it would just be me.

I decided to lie. “The last thing I remember was talking about the fashion show,” I took a long drink from my glass of water. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Bucky’s smile falter, but it happened so quick and was replaced by another smirk, I wasn’t sure. Maybe I imagined it. Because why would he want me to remember last night? “That reminds me, is it okay if Jase comes over tomorrow? He’s going to help finalize all the clothes, and then take them to his apartment.”

“Fine by me. Besides, this is your home.” Bucky said. I think he was trying to be funny, but it came off a little bit colder than I think he intended.

“Oh, please.” I grabbed myself a small snack and went back to bed for another couple hours.

My irregular sleep schedule threw me off for the rest of Saturday. I stayed up late into the night working on the last of the clothes before Jase would come tomorrow to help with detailing. He was amazing when it came to the smallest of details.

When I finished sewing my last line, I noticed it was nearly two in the morning. I jumped up, realizing I was keeping Bucky from going to bed. He was more rigid when it came to his sleep. I ran out of the room and into the living room, stopping when I saw him asleep on the couch. His head was resting on top of two throw pillows while he was wrapped in the pink furry throw that rested on the back of the loveseat. His mouth was hanging open and a soft snore was coming out of it. I decided to let him sleep instead of waking him.

I went back into the room and worked for another couple hours, stopping only when I started falling asleep on my stool. I collapsed on Bucky’s bed and promptly fell asleep.

Six hours later, Jase and I — with a mimosa in hand, of course, and RuPaul’s Drag Race on in the background — were putting the final touches on a couple of garments. We added some gems by hand to some tops, made fabric belts for a couple pairs of pants and ruched a couple crop tops. I was in the middle of trying on one of the outfits — a throwback to the disco era, complete with bell bottoms and a mini crop top — when Bucky walked out of his room.

“What do you think?” I asked him, truly wanting an unbiased opinion.

“Groovy,” he said, taking a couple steps closer.

“Don’t you think Pretty Thing should be a model in the show?” Jase stood up, grabbing my hand and twirling me. “She’s made for this outfit. She’s got the freckles and the long hair! And this flower child tattoo!” He stuck his finger in the band of my pants, right where my sunflower tattoo sat, and snapped it against me. I laughed and playfully swatted his hand away, but couldn’t help myself and looked over at Bucky.

His gaze was intently set on me, sending a shiver down my spine. It was so possessive and burning hot. “She looks beautiful.”

We stared at each other a couple more seconds before I opted to go change. I quickly stripped out of the outfit in my room, putting my yoga pants back on. I was about to put my t-shirt back on, but stared at my tattoo. I got it when I was 16 — sunflowers were my mom’s favorite flower. Part of me regrets getting it, because now it seems silly to honor my mother with something she would have hated — I mean, my Dad still doesn’t even know I have the tattoo! But the other part of me smiles every time I see it. Just like how my mom always made me smile.

As I was staring at my tattoo I suddenly felt the sensation that I was being watched. I quickly turned around, covering my chest with my shirt, but there was no one there. _You’re going crazy, Piper_ , I told myself. It was just my paranoia building up after a lack of sleep, mixing with everything that’s already been happening. I quickly got dressed and went back out to the living room.

That night, Jase, Bucky and I loaded up the clothes on the metal clothes racks and loaded them into Jase’s rented SUV. He would be taking them to his and Dinah’s apartment before moving them to the venue Wednesday for dress rehearsals.

“Are you sure you don’t want to model! I can kick out Cassie in a heartbeat!”

I laughed. “No. You know I’m not comfortable having that much attention on me. I much rather be behind the scenes.”

Jase shrugged. “If you change your mind.” He then stopped in front of Bucky. “You interested? We could always use a male model.”  
  
“Not on your life.”

“Shoot.”

I hugged Jase goodbye and thanked him for everything.

Bucky and I walked up to the apartment in silence. When we were back inside, I went over to his room and leaned against the doorframe, sighing. There was only one clothing rack left in the room — clothes that belonged to my mother that I just couldn’t seem to part with. A whole year had come and gone and I made sixty outfits. It was hard to believe, even for myself.

“You should be proud of yourself,” Bucky said, almost like he was reading my mind.

“I am,” I replied, moving over so he could stand in the doorframe too. “I doubted myself a lot. And there were a lot of tears. But I did it.”

“Your mom would be proud, too.”

I could feel the tears pricking my eyes. I couldn’t look at him, because if I did I would have started crying. “Thank you.” He could sense the emotion and put his hand on my shoulder, trying to comfort me. His thumb rubbed small circles along the base of the neck, sending more chills down my spine. My nipples also hardened and I wasn’t wearing a fucking bra. Damn it. Anymore of this and we might end up kissing. I had to quickly change the subject and crossed my arms over my chest. “So now what are we going to do with this big hole in your room?”

Bucky removed his hand from my shoulder and shrugged. “I guess it could be a space for me to work out.”

It dawned upon me that this dude who was built like a brick shithouse probably needed to work out every so often in order to maintain his…look. “You should have said something! There’s a gym here in the building! And at school!”

“I didn’t want to leave you alone for an hour,” he waved off. “It’s fine.”

“Seriously, we can go tomorrow. I could use a run on the treadmill.”

And that’s just what we did after today’s classes. We went to the gym on campus, since the machines were a bit newer. There were also a lot more weights and a boxing ring, which interested Bucky. I was running on the treadmill, sweating my face off, while Bucky was lifting weights across the room. Every so often he would look over, more so to make sure no one kidnapped me, probably. Why they would want this sweaty monster beats me.

“That guy keeps looking over here,” some random girl said to me. “I should ask him out.”

“Oh, he’s looking at me,” I responded, trying to keep my blood from boiling. “That’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh, sorry.”

I don’t know why I lied. Bucky was free to be ogled and asked out by random women. I mean, not in my presence, but whatever. The chick was done with her workout and out of the gym in fifteen minutes — amateur.

I had twenty minutes to go when Bucky came over to me. He had struck up a conversation with some guy on the weights and they were going to go spar. I looked behind his shoulder and smiled. “Aw, you made a new friend!” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Make sure to be home by dinner!”

He flipped me off and walked over to the boxing ring, which was just kitty corner from where I was. As the two guys were walking to the ring, I scanned the new guy, my eyes going wide when I saw his leg — it was a prosthetic. It was black and sleek looking and accented with a red sneaker. He was also wearing a shirt that said U.S. Army. I then couldn't help but notice that Bucky was still wearing his long sleeved grey shirt. Did this guy know Bucky was a prosthetic-wearing ex-solider too?

I slowed down a bit on the treadmill as I watched the two go at it. They were both wearing boxing gloves and warming up with slow jabs, but it soon got more intense, with Bucky using both hands to land his bunches. Bucky then took his top off, now sparring topless. I was completely and unapologetically watching every move he made, his muscles glistening with sweat. I was also fascinated with how his metal arm kept up with his body, working seamlessly and precisely.

Soon, both of their legs were being used. I let out a small gasp when I saw Bucky knocked down, only to use his legs to get his sparring partner on the ground. He was so powerful, sure and sexy. I was suddenly sweating more, and it wasn’t because of my workout.

My time on the treadmill ended, but I wasn’t ready to go. Instead, I went over to a nearby bench and began to stretch, pulling my legs behind me. I ran for a bit longer than normal, so the stretching would most definitely keep me from getting cramped up. 

When I looked up again, I noticed Bucky’s new friend was packing up to leave, saying goodbye with a handshake and wave. I took the cue to walk over, hanging my upper body over the elastic ropes. “Hey there, Rocky.” His chest was slightly heaving. Obviously that guy gave him a good work out. “You’ve got some moves, son.”

“Come here,” he stretched out his hand to me. “Let me teach you some moves.”

“Why, you’re here protecting me?”

He smirked, his stare once again becoming intense. “I won’t always be here.” I accepted his hand and let him pull me up. I stood in front of him and bounced on my feet. “Do you know how to defend yourself?"

“Of course, I’ll just kick the guy in the balls,” I simply spoke, raising my leg like I was going to do it to Barnes. He caught my leg in a flash, gripping both hands around my thigh. His long fingers were very close to a certain part of my body that was suddenly longing to be touched. Specifically, by Bucky. He had to of known, too, because his fingers were slowly tightening around my thigh. It was a weird sensation, having a warm hand and the cool of his metal hand working together.

“That’s a good move, but only effective if you’re close enough to use your knee,” he put my leg down. He then grabbed my right hand, opening it flat and facing my palm to his face. “This is the open hand strike.

He showed me how to use the heel of my hand to target a person’s head — the face, eyes and neck.

“Punch with your heel. And always aim for the eyes.”

He had me (softly) practice on him. He would hold my arm out straighter or position it how he wanted it. “Don’t pull your arm back,” he said. “Keep your elbow in front of your ribs. You’ll get more power. And it will be easy for you to reload.”

Then, all of a sudden, Bucky went for my legs, pulling me down to the ring’s mat with him. I landed kind of hard on my back, but the mat protected me from injury. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You find yourself on the floor, what do you do?” His arms were wrapped around me and I could feel his warmth through my leggings. I was suddenly aware that he was shirtless, his muscles pressed against me and his scent invading my nose.

“Call Life Alert?”

“Miss Stewart,” he sternly warned.

“I dunno. Kick you?”

“Yes!” He let go of me and laid next to me, mirroring my body placement. “If someone is directly above you, kick them with both feet at once.” He showed me by thrusting his hips off the floor. “This will give you extra power, allowing you to get up and run.” Holy Fuck. Who knew self defense was so sexual?

The first few times he helped guide my legs by holding up my waist. Then, he got closer. He crouched over my legs and then proceed to rest his hands on my butt, pulling me up to demonstrate “more force.” He gave his instructions in that commanding tone he tends to use, which gave me pleasure but also pissed me off. “Push me!”

So I did. I planted my feet on his chest, kicking a little more firm than I thought. Bucky was thrown off balance and landed on his butt a couple feet away. I sat up in a hurry, ready to apologize, but stopped when I saw his smile.

“That’s more like it.”

I smirked. “You better watch out now. I can kick your ass.”

“I’ll watch my back.”

We decided to call it a day after that. Bucky put his shirt back on, much to my dismay, and gathered his things. He walked me over to the women’s locker room and waited outside while I changed back into my skirt and blouse. I really hated getting back in nice clothes while I was sweating like a hog, but appearances were everything.

I just about had everything packed up when I noticed a loose sheet of paper in the top shelf of the locker. I grabbed it and opened it, my blood running ice cold when I read its chilling words:

_Wheezing, screaming, crying. Everything going black. You, dying._

I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. I didn’t even know if I was breathing. Everything just seemed to stop. I was finally able to close my mouth and look around, tears starting to cloud my vision. No! I would not cry! I would not be weak. Whoever was doing this wanted that.

I finished gathering my things, zipped up my bag and walked out of the locker room. Bucky was standing next to the door, probably bout to make some sarcastic remark, but stopped when he saw my face. The color must have been gone or something. “What?” I handed him the paper and he read it, a handful of times, actually.

“Fuck.”


	11. Day 9 (still)- Day 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite chapters! :)

**Chapter 11 • Bucky | Monday, 5:02 p.m.**

To say I was pissed was far from the truth. I was livid. Furious.

I could kill someone.

And it wasn’t directed to one person. First, I was mad at this fucker who was harassing Piper. I was mad at the school, since they had no working security cameras in the gym. I couldn’t even see who entered the locker room to rule them out as a suspect.

But mostly, I was furious at myself. I didn’t need to be at the gym, nor did I need to spar with Brenden. And I most certainly didn’t need to be teaching Piper moves when I should have been keeping her in the safe confines of her home. Was that thirty minutes of flirting and touching worth it? Not at all. (But don’t get me wrong, it was nice.)

I spent the car ride to the apartment on the phone, calling Steve about the letter. He would be stopping by later to pick it up and analyze it for finger prints and any other residue. Sam would be pulling footage from nearby traffic cameras and surveillance systems to see if he could piece anything together.

The worst phone call I had to make was when we got to the apartment. Mr. Stewart was less than pleased to hear of this development in the case.

“Are you not focused enough on the safety of my daughter?” he snapped. “Is this a game to you?”

The vein in my neck was throbbing so hard, I thought it was going to burst. “Your daughter’s safety is not a game, sir.” I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. “I can assure you, I am taking this very seriously.”

He went on another rant, which was cut off by Piper taking the phone away from me. I didn’t even know she was in the same room as me.

“Daddy, this isn’t Barnes’ fault,” she snapped. “I’m the one that made him take me to the gym.” There was a pause on her end. “He’s doing everything to solve this. He’s always got that stupid file in front of him, all hours of the day.” More silence, followed by an eye roll. “No, I don’t want anyone else. I want Bucky.”

“Bucky?” I heard Mr. Stewart shout on the other end.

“Dad, everything is being handled.”

She hung up on her Dad and handed me the phone back, then turned on her heel and walked down into the living room. She turned on the TV and went through her DVR, settling on some Real Housewives of something or other. I, on the other hand, replayed the conversation that just went down, my heart fluttering a little bit as Piper’s “I want Bucky” rang though my head. It was a good feeling that, despite all that is going on, she still feels safe with me.

I decided to go over Piper’s file for the thousandth time, but couldn’t find it. I had left it on the kitchen island that morning…I was just about to ask Piper if she had seen it, but found it sitting right in front of her. She was probably looking at those photos again.

“You don’t need to worry about this,” I told her.

“Huh?” She looked from the TV to me. “I didn’t take that.”

“Then how did it get over here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you brought it over here without thinking?”

I shrugged, taking the file from the coffee table.

“Why don’t you take a break?”

I shook my head. “I need to work on this while it’s hot.”

Piper got up from the couch and joined me at the island. “I’m worried about you getting burned out.” It was sweet, really. But nothing could be farther form the truth. “Want help, at least?”

“You don’t need to help me.”

She answered by sliding the folder closer to her and flipped it open. She spread out all the information and held her jaw in her hands, making a “hmm” noise. “We can’t really go off of the text messages, since they’re always sent on a burner phone.”

“Burner phone?”

“That’s what Jasper has always told me,” she supplied. “I don’t have any idea what it means.”

I chuckled. “And there’s never been prints lifted off any of these notes.” Steve responded a few minutes later saying there was nothing he could get off from the note at the gym. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. Seriously, I was about to pull all my hair out. 

“It has to be someone close,” Piper said, leaving it at that.

“How so?”

“Well, it has to be someone who knows my schedule, right?” she said. “Because the notes always turn up where I am, without that person being seen.”

“That’s the definition of a stalker.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ok, Mr. Smarty Pants. You’re on your own.”

I poured myself over the file for the rest of the night while Piper fell asleep on the couch.

**| Tuesday, 11:42 p.m. |**

Tuesday went most of the same way, with Piper doing some school work, but really sitting in front of the TV. She kept to herself most of the day, apart from when she was in and out of her room, complaining about not finding something.

“Could I borrow your phone? I want to make sure Jase has everything he needs for rehearsals,” she said. I gave her my phone, watching her dial the number and walk around the kitchen talking to her friend.

I took a break from the file and watched Piper work. She spoke so passionately about the event — how the order for the show should go, what donors should sit where and who should be thanked in a speech. I really misjudged her after our initial meeting. Soon enough, she was ending her phone call and handing me back my phone.

“Do you want to take a break and watch a movie?” she asked me. I shook my head and was about to go back to the file when she snatched it from me and held it behind her back. She was wearing black yoga pants and a grey tank top that was teasing me with her cleavage. It was all a clever distraction.

“You realize I can just take that right?”

“Not since you taught me how to defend myself,” she retorted. “Come on! Take a two hour break! I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

A smile crept on my face as I thought of the perfect movie. “Deal.”

I selected “The Shining,” my favorite movie. Piper had only seen parts of it and was wide-eyed throughout the whole movie. By the end of it, she was sitting right next to me, her hand often finding its way to my shoulder or chest, gripping my shirt in fear.

I thought the movie would end with that, but we continued the evening with a scary movie marathon. “I never watch them because I’m alone,” Piper said. “I may as well get my fill of them while someone is here with me!”

She didn’t have to twist my arm. Horror movies are my favorite, more so the classics rather than this new age blood and gore. We watched “Pet Sematary” and “Poltergeist,” as well as “The Exorcist,” because Piper “heard a lot about it.”

Much of the movies were spent with Piper’s hands over her eyes, but a couple times, she would hid her head behind my shoulder, trying to bury herself between my back and the couch. I also got a little thrill over how she would grip my hand or my thigh, totally absentmindedly. At least I could protect her this way.

Our night ended after “The Exorcist,” since it was nearly midnight and Piper had class in the morning. As Piper was walking toward her room, I stopped her. “Need me to check in your closet?”

“It’s packed full of clothes,” she laughed. “I know nothing is in there waiting for me!”

After making sure the door was locked — Chase was out front on duty — I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. Piper had me turn the heat up earlier — when she got the “horror chills,” as I call them — so the apartment was still a bit warm. I usually sleep in a shirt and some kind of pants, but decided to stick to just my boxer briefs tonight.

I went through my usual bedtime routine: replaying the entire day’s event in my head, trying to find something that may piece all the notes, pictures or threats together. But just like the last nine nights, nothing came to me. My eyes started to get heavy and I was just about to sleep when I heard a piercing scream. I bolted right up, my blood running cold.

It was Piper.

Another scream. This one was more frantic than the first. I jumped out of bed, not bothering for clothes or protection of any kind.

As I threw open my door, I heard one more scream. “ _James!_ ”

I ran with all my energy through the living room and to her bedroom, flipping on the light and stopping in my tracks when I saw her on the floor, next to the bed, some guy with his right hand wrapped around her bare leg. He was clutching his nose with his left hand, sobbing.

“She broke my nose!” he whined.

I looked over to Piper, who was staring at the guy in shock, her face frozen in fear. I ran over, yanked his hand off her leg and pulled her up. “Go to my room!”

She obeyed right away, running out of the room.

I grabbed the fucker by his collar and pulled him up eye level to me. “I’m going to break more than just your nose.” I landed a punch to his jaw, sending him to the ground.

I punched him a few more times before I felt two strong hands hold my right arm back. It was Chase. Piper must have let him in on her way to my room. Jasper and Clay weren’t too far behind, both in their pajamas, each with their guns drawn.

“Who the hell are you?”

“J-J-Jeremy,” he was shaking in fear and pain. Blood was running from his nose while tears ran from his eyes. His lip was also split, thanks to one of my punches.

“Why the hell are you under this bed?” I was still questioning him while the guys were handcuffing him and leading him out of the bedroom.

“I love her!” he said, which he kept repeating and repeating, louder and louder.

“Get him out of here,” I spat, truly wanting to kill him.

Jasper and Clay both led him out of the apartment while Chase went back to guarding the door. Before I shut the door, I instructed Chase to get a hold of Mr. Stewart about the incident. I then went into my room to see Piper. I knocked on the door before entering, not waiting for a response.

Piper was on the far side of the room, crouching behind the bedside table. She peeked around it, which broke my heart. She was in shock; not yet crying, but looked like she could have broken down at any minute.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Stupid question, really, but I didn’t know what else to say. “Did he hurt you?”

She looked down at her leg, timidly touching the spot where his hand had been, almost as if his touch had burned her. “There’s a couple scratches. Maybe a bruise forming. But I’m fine.”

I went over to her and was about to sit down when I noticed her state of dress: a thin Harvard t-shirt and skimpy cotton underwear. Something told me she always dressed like this for bed. And then it occurred to me that this fucker probably saw her naked. I was getting pissed again. I grabbed my comforter off the bed and wrapped it around Piper.

I inspected her leg, gently gripping it with my metal hand and running my fingers over it. She seemed to relax to my touch. “He said his name is Jeremy.”

“Jeremy.” She kept saying the name out loud, trying to remember how she would know the name. It took her a few minutes, but she finally placed it. “We went on two dates. Like five months ago. I ended it because he was weird.”

“How so?”

She shrugged. “He would follow me around and ask what I was doing. He would get mad when I was with other people and not him.”

Yep, sounds like a stalker to me. And an abusive asshole at that. “Abusive?”

She shook her head. “He never touched me. Literally. We never even held hands or kissed. He was just so creepy.”

“How did he get you on the floor?”

“I was about to sleep when I could hear breathing,” she smirked. “Honestly, I thought it was you trying to scare me. So I leaned over the bed to scare you first, but screamed when it wasn’t you.” Piper proceeded to tell me she tried to run out of the room, but Jeremy grabbed her leg, causing her to fall. That was the second scream.

We sat in silence for a couple minutes. Piper was the one to speak next. “So…is it all over?”

“Maybe. I mean, I want to interview him some more to see if he was responsible for everything. But you should definitely feel safe.”

“I don’t,” her voice cracked. Her eyes were starting to water. “Bucky, how did he get in here?”

I felt my gut churn. I didn’t ask the fucker that. How the hell did he get in here? “I’ll find out.”

We were silent again. This time, it was me who broke it with a low rumble in my chest. It then bubbled into actual laughter, eliciting a confused look from Piper. “What could possibly be so funny right now?”

“You broke his nose,” I said between laughs. “It was bleeding like a fucking river.”

She continued to look at me like I had two heads. “Yeah. I did the hand thing.” She re-enacted it for me, which only caused me to laugh more.


	12. Day 11

**Chapter 12 • Piper | Wednesday, 3:19 a.m.**

There was no way I could go back to bed after what just happened. Actually, there was no way I could go back into that room. I was terrified. It took Bucky a whole hour just to get me from my place on the floor to his bed.

As I sat there on Bucky’s bed, I began to think about all the weird stuff that happened this weekend: why my room was a mess, why my laptop was on the floor one night, why things were moved around the apartment. It was because Jeremy was walking around the place when we weren’t there.

Then it hit me.

“Bucky! Look at the security footage! You should be able to see Jeremy.”

He nodded, handing me a pair of sweat pants. “I’ll do that in the morning.”

As I put my pants on, I couldn’t help but wonder how long Jeremy had been in my apartment, let alone under my bed. Why did it take so long for him to make himself known? Then I realized, it’s because I hardly slept in my room at all. Friday, Bucky was in there with me. Saturday I slept in Bucky’s room after sewing all night. And on Sunday and Monday, I slept on the couch, thanks to the TV. 

And if Bucky hadn’t taken my door away from me, who knows what could have happened. At the most, Bucky wouldn’t have heard me scream. Shit, I suppose I would have to thank him for that.

There was another knock on the door, followed by Bucky poking his head in. “Your dad is on his way over here.”

I let out a breath and put my head in my hands. “Fucking great.”

“It’ll be fine,” he told me. “He just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

I looked up at him and smirked. “Fine.” I got up from the bed and followed Bucky out to the kitchen to wait. I couldn’t help but look over at my bedroom. The light was still on, pillows strewn all over and my comforter trailing out the door. I could almost see my and Jeremy’s silhouettes in the room, replaying my finding him. Except in this version, it ended worse.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bucky interrupted my thoughts. He was holding on to my shoulders, turning to me to face him. “You’re having a panic attack.”

I didn’t realize my heart rate increased, causing my breathing to come in shallow, short bursts. I was also sweating and felt a bit faint. I stared at Bucky as he moved his metal hand from my shoulder to my face, keeping my head from turning to look at the room. 

“I can’t stay here,” I nearly sobbed. “I don’t feel safe. I don’t want to be here.” Then I started crying.

“It’s fine, it’s fine — we don’t have to stay here,” he said. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

The next thing I knew, I was resting against Bucky’s body — anxiety getting the best of me. But instead of pushing me away, Bucky wrapped his arms around me. For the briefest of moments, I felt safe, like no one could touch me. His arms were so strong and holding me so tightly. I was so comfortable. His normal hand was moving in small circles on my lower back. Is it wrong that I wanted his hand to move lower?

That was all interrupted when the door to the apartment opened and my dad — flanked by two secret servicemen — walked in.

“Piper!” he said, coming right over to me, arms stretched out. I reluctantly withdrew from Bucky and stepped into my dad’s arms. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad, but it just wasn’t the type of comfort I needed right now. “My God, I was terrified when I heard.” He pulled me out of the hug and stared at me, looking for any visible injuries. “Are you okay?”

“Physically, yes.” I started walking back to Bucky’s room. Suddenly I felt like I was out in the open, too exposed. I needed to be alone. Or rather, just alone with Bucky.

Dad followed me into the room and shut the door behind him. I then had to relay the whole story to him, feeling sick that I had to relive it, again. “Daddy, I can’t stay here. At least not right now.”

“It’s all over, isn’t it?” he asked.

I shrugged. “But I don’t — ”

“Your apartment is one of the safest places in the city. You’re fine here.”

“I don’t feel safe,” I yelled. “Why aren’t you listening to me?”

The door to the room opened in a flash, Bucky appearing on the other side. “Everything okay?”

Dad responded “yes” while I said “no” at the same time. Bucky hesitated, not sure who to listen to. He chose me, fully walking into the room and shutting the door behind him.

“Mr. Stewart, with all due respect, your daughter doesn’t want to be here. I think it may be best to relocate her, if even for a week or so. Just so she can process everything,” he assuredly spoke. My heart soared, finally being heard. I gave him a small smile.

My father looked from Bucky to me. “What’s going on here?”

“What?” I snapped. “Are you serious right now?”

He turned to Bucky. “I come in and you’re hugging my daughter. Now she’s smiling at you. Are you sleeping with her?”

“Dad!” I screamed.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky snapped at the same time.

My face grew red in embarrassment. I could die right now, seriously. “Bucky was comforting me because that’s what another human being does!” I stepped in between the two men. “But in case you’re forgetting what’s truly important, I could have been killed tonight. And I don’t want to be here because of that reason.”

The room was silent for a few minutes, but I held my own, starting at my father; unwavering. He finally let out a breath, dropping his shoulders in the process. “Fine. Let’s get you out of here. Any ideas where?”

We hadn’t even thought of that yet. There was a safe house in the White House, but I wouldn’t be permitted to use that. I suggested a hotel, but my dad promptly shot that one down. Bucky suggested his own apartment, just a couple subway stops away from the White House. My dad about lost it over that one.

“How about the summer cabin?” Dad suggested. It was perfect. We still had the family home in Albany, but Dad was referring to the little cabin upstate in North Country. No one but us and our closest security knew where it was.

I nodded. “That sounds good.”

It was just going to be me and Bucky, which I think worried my father. Truly, the cabin wasn’t that big. And it would keep suspicion down. But mostly, he was truly the only person I felt safe with.

My dad stayed for another half hour, making sure I wanted to go through with the plan. After he left, Bucky was ready to start packing, but I stopped him. “I do need to go to class tomorrow.”

“What?” he asked me incredulously.

“I have a test tomorrow.” I said. Bucky still looked at me like I was crazy. “I should also explain to Professor Whitmore why I won’t be in class for the near future. Maybe see if we can work with me so I can working on all my assignments from afar. It’s probably best if I do it in person.”

Bucky relented. “Fine. We’ll leave after your class.”

Bucky packed his clothes from his dresser — big, whoop; like he had a lot of stuff to begin with — and then opened his closet door, making my jaw drop. There were probably fifteen different types of guns in there, six or seven knives, various tactic wear items and a couple pairs of walkie talkies.

“This has been in here this whole time?” I demanded. He sheepishly smiled, ignoring my question. “Fuckin’ A, Rambo!”

After his stuff was packed and waiting by the door, Bucky joined me in my room to pack my stuff. I just couldn’t be in the room alone. But thankfully, I didn’t have to tell Bucky that; he just knew.

While I quickly packed — which consisted of me basically emptying drawers into a big suitcase — Bucky made my bed and tidied up what was knocked down during the scuffle with Jeremy. I stepped in my closet to grab some sweaters and a couple dresses, stopping for a minute to take a breath. Was this really my life right now? Fearfully packing to basically go on the run? If that was the case, I had to make sure to grab some sentimental items — like my favorite picture of my mom. Who knew how long I would be gone.

The last thing I packed up was my laptop, charger and books. When I was done, Bucky took all of our items down to the car, which Alexei had ready in the garage. We decided to leave earlier than usual for my classes, allowing us time to talk to Professor Whitmore. But it was still only a quarter to 7, so I decided to hop into the shower once Bucky returned from the garage. And just like when I packed, he happily sat in my room, waiting for me to shower and change. Once I was done, Bucky did the same and then we were off. 

As we rode down in the elevator in silence, Bucky could sense my fear. Or rather, hear it. I was tapping my foot on the marble floor and biting my lip. He just grabbed my wrist, then slid his hand into mine. “You’re going to be fine, Miss Stewart. I promise.”


	13. Day 11 (still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little intense!

**Chapter 13 • Bucky | Wednesday, 9:15 a.m.**

We stopped by the professor’s office first thing before class and explained the situation. He was understanding. Very understanding, in fact. He told Piper to never mind the test and class and get out of the city. She could do the rest of the semester’s assignments online, all from the comfort of the cabin.

The plan was for Alexei to drive us up there and would get food and supplies for two weeks, then he would leave us. It would just be the two of us in the middle of nowhere. I was both excited and nervous.

Nervous because I didn’t know if I could be left alone with Piper without doing something we would both regret. My feelings were starting to play more and more into my job of protecting Piper. She was all I ever thought about, whether it was first thing in the morning or before I fell asleep. Not to mention, I _still_ kept thinking about our make out session from a few days ago. Shit. I was in trouble.

As we walked out of the political science building, I could tell she was already feeling lighter. The atmosphere in the car felt great as we left campus and started to drive out of town. I was in the passenger seat and Piper sat behind me. And she was actually fucking humming a tune. Maybe she was excited to be alone with me too?

Unfortunately, that excitement stopped ten minutes into I-495, when I heard the oh-so familiar sound of gunfire, popping in the distance. Our vehicle was under attack.

Having been in the military for so long, I knew exactly what was happening, so I went into survive mode. I crouched down in my seat, below the windows and started reaching for my two guns I had holstered on me.

“Get down!” I yelled to Piper, glancing back and seeing she was hunched in her seat, confused as to what was happening. I then yelled at Alexei, “Get us out of here!”

Before he could respond, more bullets hit the car, going through the window and taking out Alexei. I could feel his blood spray on my face. Then all I heard was Piper screaming. I looked back at her, my heart stopping when I saw her, too, covered in blood. I didn’t know if she had been hit or if it was Alexei’s. There was no time to ask.

“Get below the windows!” I snapped. Piper just responded with more screaming and crying. I surveyed what I could from my viewpoint, which wasn’t much. Traffic around us lost control, with cars trying to squeeze by and get out of the gunfire. Our car was sideswiped multiple times and we were eventually blocked in, so I just put it in park. We were sitting ducks.

There was a pause, which gave me time to think. The hits were coming from the left side of the vehicle. There weren’t any buildings directly near us, so I knew that whoever was doing this had very high grade weaponry. Like military shit.

Our car underwent another round of gunfire, which caused Piper to scream some more. I looked back at her. She had her hands over her ears and her eyes tightly shut. I reached behind my seat and wrapped my hands around her wrists, pulling her arms down.

“Piper! Piper!” I screamed. She finally stopped and looked at me, wide-eyed. “I need you to stop screaming. Stay below the windows. The car is bulletproof, but only if you stay below the windows.”

She nodded, words failing to come out of her mouth. There was another break in the gunfire, so I quickly got up and threw myself over the center console, and landed in the back seat. I got down just in time as the fourth round of gunfire went off. I had Piper tucked under my arms, using my metal one to shield us both.

“Where’re the guys?” Piper asked me as the gunfire seemed to get louder, if that was even possible. To me, it sounded like a second shooter joined the party.

“They weren’t ever going to join us,” I told her. “It was just us.”

“Fuck,” she started to cry again.

“Open your legs,” I told Piper.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Open them!”

She did as told, allowing me to slip my hand between them and pull a gun case out from under her seat. My trusty Barrett M82A. I always kept it in the vehicle for emergencies. It was perfect for scenarios like this: it was light, accurate and, most importantly, had an intense scope on it so I could see for yards away.

“You’re not going out there are you?” Piper asked me, gripping my wrist, like that was going to keep me in the vehicle.

“Not yet,” I said. I took out my cell phone, punched number two and waited for Steve to pick up. “We’re under attack at mile marker thirty four on the 495. Shooting is coming from the east. We need Redwing. And the Shield.”

“Be there in five.”

“Five minutes, Piper.”

The gunfire seemed to grow louder and louder, or perhaps that was because we were sitting in silence. Piper would startle once in a while, a small whimper escaping her mouth. I continued to hug her to my body, which was now shaking. Her adrenaline was rising. 

Five minutes felt like an hour, but Steve called to let me know they had spotted us and to be ready. I hung up the phone and then pulled my body from Piper.

“Do you trust me?” I asked. Her green eyes, still just as wide, bore into mine. They looked greener than I ever remembered.

“Yes,” she whispered, just loud enough so I could hear. “With my life.”

“Good.” I opened the door behind her and pushed her out. She was barely out of the car when she started to scream, but was muffled by Steve and his shield. He placed the shield over Piper’s exposed body, ricocheting bullets away from them. Her body was pressed to his as he backed both of them into an awaiting car, loading her in it and driving off.

I was too focused on Piper to notice that Sam had gotten out of said car and was now in the car with me, getting Redwing — his drone — up and running. “No offense man, but you’re sucking at this job.”

“Can you shut up?” I shot back.

Sam opened the door just wide enough to send Redwing out. As the drone flew around the area, we both surveyed what it was seeing, thanks to a video on Sam’s wrist.

“There! On the rooftop!” I exclaimed, taking note of a heat signature on a nearby office building roof. The guy — judging by the stance — was operating some sort of mounted machine.

“You really going after this guy?”

“Yep."

Sam sighed. “I got your back, man.”

We exited the car the same way Piper did, taking off toward the exit. The only problem is that once we reached the exit, we would lose our coverage from the traffic jam. We hid behind a truck as Sam set up Redwing to fire some taser discs, which would shock the shooter long enough for us to find more coverage. If we ran fast enough, that is.

“Three…two….one,” Sam hit fire on his arm control and we took off running. We had about thirty seconds to make it through the exit and under the overpass, then we could take cover from building to building. We took of running, adrenaline pumping through my veins. My legs were starting to burn, as well as my lungs. But I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.

We made it to the overpass before the gunfire continued. In between the rounds of fire, Sam and I hopped from building to building, finally shaking the shooter once we approached the office building. I was thankful he lost sight of us, but unfortunately, that meant we would be going in blind, too.

Sam scanned the building with Redwing. “There’s a back staircase through this window. It will take us to the roof.”

I broke out the window with my metal arm and we climbed through. We hurried up the twelve flights of stairs and collected ourselves at the roof top entrance. “You flank left, I’ll take right.” Sam nodded, grabbing his Glock off his hip. I positioned my gun against my right shoulder and blew out a breath before kicking the door down.

Sam and I bolted onto the roof, stopping when we saw no one in sight. The machine gun, which was bolted to the cement of the roof, was abandoned. Sam and I ran over to it and looked around. Upon inspection, we found two grappling hooks shot over to the near by building.

“He got away,” I said.

“ _They_.”

Then I heard the click of a gun; its safety being taken off. Sam and I both whirled around, arming ourselves and ready to shoot. But then we realized the safety wasn’t coming off for us.

“Hail Hydra,” the guy said before he pointed the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger.

Sam and I were quiet for a few minutes, processing what we just saw. “Shit, man. Not Hydra.”

I walked over to the body and inspected it. A young caucasian man, maybe late twenties or early thirties. He had black hair and stark blue eyes, which were staring up at the sky. 

“Looks like your theory was right,” Sam said after he patted down the body for any form of identification. “We’re dealing with something much bigger than a lovestruck stalker.”

I blew out a breath and ran my hand through my hair. It was damp from Alexei’s blood. I could only imagine what I looked like.I suddenly had to sit down, my legs feeling like they were on fire.

“What are you going to do now?”  
  
“Get to Piper,” I said, which caused Sam to raise an eyebrow. “But first, I have to make some phone calls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I should also mentioned, this attack scene is inspired by The Bodyguard [BBC]. Such a good show!)


	14. Day 11 (still, still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this - it's been crazy around here!

**Chapter 14 • Piper | Wednesday, 10:30 a.m.**

I don’t remember how I got here, to this grey room in the basement of some government building. It was desaturated of color— no paintings, no pretty vases or even a window to the outside. It was just grey walls, a darker grey carpet, and boring furniture.

Exactly how I felt right now.

The last thing I remember was Bucky pushing me from the car and Steve being there to catch me. I was shocked that he would do that, but obviously it was part of his plan. All I could do was look out the window and watch the chaos behind us. I felt tears slip out of my eyes as I realized we were leaving Bucky behind.

“It’s all fine, Miss Stewart,” Steve reassured me. “Bucky’s been through worse. He’ll find us later.”

Apparently, Steve brought me to this safe house, where I was quickly ushered down several flights of stairs. I was put in this room, which was guarded by a large man that I’m pretty sure was Dwayne Johnson. Or at least his twin.

And then I was left alone.

I kept reliving the whole scene over and over. I could hear all the noises, almost like it was happening in the little grey room. But the worst part was Alexei. I kept seeing him being shot and his limp, lifeless body leaning against his seat. I’ve never seen a dead body before, not in person at least. Not like that.

I looked down at my hands, they were shaking and speckled in blood. Alexei’s blood. I tried to get it off my hands by furiously rubbing the backs of them, but it was dried on. It wasn’t coming off! My breathing turned shallow again, but this time I could taste bile. I ran into the tiny nearby bathroom and threw up everything that was in my stomach, and then some. Once I was done, I went over to the sink and washed my mouth out. Then I saw my reflection.

I was covered in blood. Not mine. I was horrified. It was on my face and down my neck. I followed its trail down by white shirt and to my jeans. My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Thinking it was Bucky, I ran out to the room and threw open the door.

It was a woman: short, probably just over five feet tall, but curvy; she had fire red hair, beautiful cream skin and a warming smile. I don’t know who she was, but I suddenly felt comforted. She was like an angel.

“Hi Piper,” she said. “My name is Natasha. I’m a friend of Bucky’s. Can I come in?”

I opened the door wider, letting her in. “Is Bucky okay?”

She waited until I shut the door to answer, which was unneeded, quite frankly. “He’s fine. He just had to take care of a few things. He sent me here to make sure you were okay."

I shook my head and went over to the bed, sitting back down at the foot end of the bed. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

She sat next to me and placed her arm across my shoulders. “I know, this all must be terrifying. I’m so sorry.” We sat in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t even know where to begin. “How about we get you cleaned up? I brought some clothes.”

I hadn’t even realized she brought a bag with her. It was from Nordstroms. She picked it up to show me, pulling out undergarments, a pair of grey yoga pants, a white t-shirt and a blue cardigan. “You seemed like a girl who likes blue,” she said, getting a small smile out of me. She also had a little bag of toiletries.

I looked at the items and then back to her. It all just seemed so overwhelming. “I can’t,” my voice cracked. She just smiled, put all the things back in the bag and patted my knee.

“I know what will help,” she reached for her phone from her back pocket and hit a button. I don’t think she even had to wait two seconds before the person on the other line picked up. “I’m here with Piper. Can you talk?”

The person must have said yes, because she was handing me the phone. I accepted it and put it up to my ear. “H-hello?”

“Are you okay?” It was Bucky. His voice was somehow calm and comforting; it made my heart flutter just hearing it. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding in since our vehicle was shot at. Just hearing that he was alive and sounding normal made me feel a million times better, believe it or not.

“No. Where are you?” I answered, still in a shaky tone.

“I’m at the apartment,” he said. “I just had to stop by for a few more things. Then I’ll come to you.” I shook my head, as if he could see me. “Do you need anything from here?”

“No. Just you.”

“I’ll be there soon,” I could tell he was smiling. “But do me a favor. Nat is there to help you get cleaned up. Let her help you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

We hung up and I handed Natasha back her phone. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she stood up from the bed and grabbed the shopping bag at her feet. “Shall we get you in the shower?”

While in the bathroom, Natasha explained that I was still in shock from the attack. My body was still in survival mode, which was wreaking havoc on me. It was a good idea to get under some warm water to help bring my body back to its core temperature, then I could start to process everything.

She helped me out of my clothes — putting them all in the now empty shopping bag, more than likely to be thrown away — and started the shower for me. Before I was totally naked and in the shower, she told me she would just be in the other room and to yell if I needed her. I thanked her and she left the tiny bathroom.

She was right about the water. It felt really good. I stood under the spray for a few minutes, watching as the drain sucked down all of the blood-stained water. I ran my fingers through my blood crusted hair until the water ran clear again. After I washed my hair, I started to feel a weight against my chest; like someone was sitting on me. This must be what Natasha meant by processing everything.

My legs gave out on me, so I was sitting on the floor of the shower with the water shooting on me. I pulled my legs to my chest and by the time I tightly wrapped my arms around them, I was crying. I figured I should get it all out now before I went to the other room to be with Natasha. At least with the hot water, my face would already be red — no one would know I had been crying.

After some time crying, I righted myself and finished washing my hair and body. When it came to putting the clothes on, I put on everything but the bra. I was probably just going to go to bed anyways, even though it wasn’t yet noon.

I wiped the steam build up from the bathroom mirror, finding my normal(ish) self staring back at me. My skin didn’t look green anymore, thanks to the shower — and throwing up. But I did look exhausted. I ran the comb Natasha got me through my hair and quickly braided it back. I gave myself a final look over before exiting the bathroom.

I barely had the door open, but Bucky was right there, waiting. I stopped when I saw him. His face was just like mine: pale, and void from all emotion. His hair was damp in spots, telling me he must have showered when he was at the apartment. And if it was possible, he looked like he had more scruff on his face.

“H-hi,” I tried to say, but it came out as the start of a sob. Bucky was right there, wrapping his arms around me and tightly squeezing. I covered my face with my hands, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” he said into my hair.

“It is. I made us go to class,” I whispered. “If we would have just left when you said…”

Bucky released me and sat me down on the bed before kneeling on the ground in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Whoever these people are, they were following us. It wouldn’t have mattered when we left. This was going to happen.”

“I put you in danger. And Alexei…” I started to cry again. An innocent man — albeit, probably with a connection to the Russian mob — had died because of me.

“I’ve been in worse situations. And Alexei knew the risks when he took the job.” I looked down at our hands, watching as Bucky kept rubbing his thumbs on top of mine. He was going in small circles, which was oddly comforting. “Our job — both mine and Alexei’s — is to keep you safe. And we did that. I know Alexei would agree with me.”

I shook my head at his words. “I don’t want you to die on my behalf.”

Bucky smirked, “I don’t plan on dying.” He stopped moving his thumbs and moved his hands up, resting them on my forearms. “But for the record, it would be worth it.”

After his admission, I looked up from our hands to his face. His blue eyes were intensely staring at me, gauging my reaction. They then flicked down to my lips before going back to my eyes. I gave a small smile, my heart fluttering once I realized that he kinda-sorta admitted to what I had already been feeling: desire.

Instead of verbally responding, I leaned closer to him and he met me the rest of the way, our lips perfectly fitting together. We were kissing before I could fully comprehend what I was doing. Not really the best way to respond to a tragedy. But Bucky and I are drawn to each other like magnets. There’s no denying that.

I could feel the scruff from his face on mine, tickling every once in a while. Bucky’s hands were now resting on the sides of my thighs while mine were on his shoulders, one of them playing with his hair. It was much softer than I expected.

I could feel Bucky nibbling on my bottom lip, wanting better access to mouth. I obliged, inviting his tongue in, getting a thrill when he moved his against mine. Fuck, he was a good kisser. I bet he was good at other things, too.

Like he read my mind, Bucky let out a small moan, moving his hands up further and resting them on my hips. I had made out with a number of guys in my lifetime, but for some reason I never felt so powerful as I did in this moment.

I wanted Bucky. No, correction. I _needed_ him. I can’t explain the need behind it. But hell, I just about died today. Life is too short to deny yourself of the things you want. I removed my hands from Bucky, working my sweater off my body. He helped me with the rest of it, taking it in his right hand and throwing it across the room. His lips were back on mine, like a magnet. “Are we doing this?” He mumbled against them.

“Do you not want to?”

“I’ve wanted to do this since day one,” he confessed, which made me feel like I was walking on air. I was about to lay back on the bed when Bucky stopped kissing me. He stood up and looked over to the door. “Hold that thought.”

He went over to the door and opened it, looking back at me. “If you need anything, Miss Stewart, I’m on the other side of that door. Sleep well.” He walked out, then shut the door.

“The fuck?” I whispered to no one in particular. Then it hit me, the guard by the door. He was obviously going to be stationed out in the hall for a while, so Bucky had to make it look like I was going to sleep. And that we weren’t getting it on. I could hear him talking to the guard before entering the room next door. I got up from the bed, wiped under my eyes and cheeks, and walked over to our joint door across the room. I blew out a breath, slowly turning the handle. I was nervous, but also giddy.

I opened the door to Bucky’s room, smiling that he was already on the other side waiting for me. Before I knew it, my legs were wrapped around his waist, our lips hungrily kissing each other once again. His strong hands were on my butt, kneading, while his even stronger legs carried me over to the bed, gently setting me down. He was soon over me, peppering my lips, neck and shoulders with kisses. His hair would tickle me every so often, especially when he was kissing my shoulders. I loved it.

“I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” I mumbled, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging it upwards. Bucky took care of it the rest of the way, sending it flying behind him. Even though I’ve seen him shirtless before, I never had the opportunity to study him; touch him. He had a broad chest, yet was tapered at the waist. And a fucking eight pack. I didn’t even think those existed. Honestly, he looked like the Greek gods had chiseled him from stone.

Bucky’s chest and arms were marked by scars, some faded white and others darker. I ran a couple fingers over his abs and up to his chest. I then went to his metal arm, tracing the meanest looking scars that rested near the base of the prosthetic. He responded by grabbing my hand and kissing it.

I then decided to be bold and go for his pants, but he stopped me, holding my hands above my head.

“This is about you,” he said with his lips hovering above mine. He pressed another searing kiss to me lips. “Let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” I stuttered. Holy Fuck. That made me wet.

He still kept a gentle hold of my hands with his metal one and ran his other one down my body, stopping at my midriff. His hand then ran up my shirt, a moan escaping Bucky’s lips when he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. (As if my erect nipples showing through my shirt wasn’t a tell tale sign…men!) He ran his thumb over one of my nipples, which caused my legs to jerk. I tried to clench them close to help with the pressure I felt _down there_. Bucky just chuckled.

“So receptive.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you,” I shot back.

He laughed this time. “No, I’m fucking you, remember?”

Bucky released my hands. He had to - it took two hands to get my yoga pants off. My under ware, however, he just ripped and threw aside. Before I could protest the action, he was in between my legs, his mouth on my mound. My breathing pretty much stopped when he flattened his tongue against me, licking one long, slow line. I cried out, which he quickly stopped with a hand over my mouth.

“Shhh!” he waited a beat before he continued, making sure the guard outside didn’t hear. Once the coast was clear, Bucky went back to working my core, slipping a finger in me. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut. Every so often, I would open them and look down, our eyes meeting. My breath would catch in my throat when I would see his intense stare. His blue eyes seemed darker than normal, filled with lust and desire.

Bucky continued to work magic down there, licking, sucking and, eventually, adding more fingers. Every move he made sent electricity through my body. I was literally shaking by the time my orgasm hit.

“I’ve never done that after _that_ ,” I rasped out. The room was like five thousand degrees suddenly.

“Amateurs.”

My body was sweating and I was ready for a break, but Bucky was just getting started. My ears perked up when I heard the cling of his belt, followed by the opening of his zipper. It’s like I could feel my vagina get happy or something. Bucky then shed his pants and boxers in one motion. My eyed widened and I audibly gasped at him — which made him flash one of his brilliant smiles.

Bucky’s dick was huge - long, thick and ready. I couldn’t believe the power I had; that I could get him so hard. A bead of cum dropped from his tip and my tongue involuntarily licked my lips. I wanted to take him in my mouth so bad. “Don’t get any ideas,” Bucky warned me.

Soon my shirt was shed, joining the other bits of clothes around the room. Bucky cupped both of my breasts this time, giving me a little bit of a shiver when his metal fingers touched my skin. Bucky apologized, but I quickly dismissed him. “I like it.”

He was then kissing me again, stopping after a few minutes. “I need to be in you.” I don’t know if he was asking or stating a fact, but I nodded my head, agreeing. It sounded like a great idea. “Can you take all of me?”

This time I kissed him, my teeth teasing his bottom lip. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue in and move it around, almost like he was giving me a preview of what to expect. He reluctantly pulled his lips away, instead focusing on his engorged member. He spread the beads of pre-cum along his length before putting his fingers back on my center, smiling when he found me wet, yet again. “Fuck.”

“Yes, that, please.”

Bucky obliged, lining up his dick with my entrance. His eyes flickered to me, making sure I was okay as he slowly entered me. My eyes closed in pleasure and my back arched involuntarily. It was the best feeling in the world, Bucky in me. I didn’t want it to stop. “F-f-fuck.”

Once Bucky was fully in, he waited for me to adjust before lifting my left leg and wrapping it around his waist, going even deeper than I thought possible. I threw my head back and cried out. “ _Bucky_!”

Both of us were too caught up to worry about if we were heard or not. Who really cared at this point.

“Keeping going,” I whispered. I rocked my hips back and forth, to the best of my ability. This time, Bucky was the one moaning.

“You feel so good,” he moaned, bracing himself against the pillows behind me with his metal arm. I looked down at our joined bodies, feeling my orgasm build when I saw the movements Bucky was making against me. He knew exactly what he was doing, which was bringing me to the edge.

“I’m gonna,” I tried to finish the rest, but couldn’t. My eyes closed shut on their own, helping me to get through this release. But then I felt Bucky’s hand cup my face and his movements stall.

“Don’t. Open your eyes,” he pleaded. “I want to see your eyes.”

I obeyed, my eyes meeting his blue ones. His stare wasn’t as intense this time, but still full of emotion. It was overwhelming; I could feel it in my chest. Before I knew it, my climax was pulsing through me. I clenched around him, my whole body shuddering. He performed a couple more thrusts and released, somewhat in time with my orgasm.

“Oh my god,” I breathed heavily. I didn’t even have the words to say. Hell, I couldn’t really comprehend what my body just went through.

Bucky collapsed next to me, on his back, giving me a perfect view of his chest moving up and down, trying to take in as much air as possible. “My god, too.” I laughed, turning to my side and pushing some strands of hair from his sweaty forehead. He turned his head to look at me, smiling as he did so. “You’re gorgeous.”

I felt a blush creep to my cheeks. “That’s just the post-sex endorphins talking.”

“No,” his index finger ran over my nose, following my trail of freckles. “I’ve thought that since the first day.”

“Yeah?” He nodded. “Any other confessions you need to make?”

He smirked, now this thumb was tracing my lips. “When you slammed your door that second time, I wanted to take you over my knee. The thought did cross my mind, actually.”

I laughed. “Damn it, I should have slammed more doors.”

He was back to kissing me; drawn out, slow, lazy kisses. His metal arm was protectively draped across my waist while his other was tucked in my hair. I’ve never felt safer, here in this bed, with Bucky wrapped around me. I was so comfortable, in fact, that I felt my eyes start to droop, growing heavier by the second. Bucky could also tell what was happening.

“Go to sleep, Baby,” he said as he situated the covers around us. My eyes fluttered shut and sleep overtook me. But right before I stepped off the edge, I heard Bucky whisper, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no mention of condoms. But seriously, people - practice safe sex!


	15. Day 11 (yes, still)

**Chapter 15 • Bucky | Wednesday, 5:45 p.m.**

Unlike Piper, I couldn’t fall asleep. My mind was too busy racing with everything that just happened.

I know I — we — shouldn’t have done what we just did. The line was crossed; I was no longer professional in my job. Hell, that went out the window last Friday when we publicly made out on the street. But this was _really_ a violation. How could I look at her father: the vice president — potentially our country’s new president — and, more importantly, my employer? How could I even look at Steve and Sam, and everyone else at Avenger Security? I will always be known as the guy who slept with a client.

But truthfully, my life will never be the same now, not after the sex we just had. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard in my life; it was almost painful. Her body was so receptive to my touch. It’s like I was the conductor and she was a sweet, beautiful symphony.

But more than that, we had a deep connection that I wasn’t expecting. Even after a couple days on the job, I felt an attraction to Piper. And I think she felt the same. What I loved most is that she made me feel comfortable. Sure, I’ve slept with some women since I’ve had my arm — but I’ve never felt like myself with them; I was always insecure about my prosthetic. But not with Piper.

Fuck what everyone else thinks. Piper and I are most definitely bonded to each other in some way, that’s clear. There’s something between us that is electric and I want to spend every waking day figuring out what it is. My friends would understand that. And I’m sure, in time, her father would, too.

“Bone of my bone,” I mumbled, recalling a phrase my mom used to use. I never understood what she meant until now. A little piece of Piper was now forever engrained in me; and I her.

I looked down at sleeping Piper and felt a smile spread across my face. She looked at peace, finally. I swear, I will do whatever I can to make sure her life continues that way.

Fuck. One way I can do that is solve this fucking case.

I carefully untangled myself from Piper and slipped out of the bed, putting on my boxers. I tiptoed into my room, retrieving my laptop, which had all the security footage from the apartment. This is one of the things I went back for after the attack on the interstate. There had to be some sort of connection to this Jeremy and Hydra, which was taking credit for the attack. But before I could determine that, I needed to see how he got in the apartment.

Sitting in a chair near Piper’s bed, I pulled up the footage from yesterday, watching every camera in the apartment. Nothing. There was never anything that showed Jeremy, apart from us dragging him out of the room. It’s like he knew there were cameras in the apartment, because he was never in a single frame.

I went back a day earlier. Nothing. Then one more day. Still nothing.

I rubbed my hands over my face in frustration, trying to keep from screaming out. But it was no use, Piper must have heard me.

“Easy there, don’t rub your face off.” Her hair was full of volume and sticking up a little, which only made her look a hundred times sexier. “What are you doing?”

“Going through the security footage.”

She got up from the bed — I got a bit hard when I saw her naked form, which she soon covered with my t-shirt — and walked over to me, plopping herself in my lap. That did nothing for my hard on, unfortunately.

“Can you see him?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think we’ll ever see him.”

We were now on early Saturday morning, seeing ourselves on the camera when we came back from Kol. “Aw, look at us!” Piper leaned closer to the laptop. “God, I look like a hot mess. We both do.”

“I had just carried you four blocks,” I reminded her.

“Ha! Oh yeah,” she laughed, then sighed. “I love that dress.”

“That dress needs to be burned.”

“What! It’s a four hundred dollar dress! How can you say that?”

I pointed to the screen, my finger running up and down her chest, which was unfortunately in black and white. “No one should be able to see that.”

Piper laughed. “You mean no one but you?”

“Obviously.”

She playfully smacked my chest with the back of her hand. “Oh, and by the way, I totally remember everything about that night.”

My heart fluttered a bit. “Yeah?”

“Like I wouldn’t remember making out with you?” She leaned back against me and kissed my jaw. I smiled and felt a blush creep on my cheeks. I placed a kiss on the top of her head so she wouldn’t notice. “Hey! Jasper was covering at the front door. Maybe Jeremy got in when they switched?”

I scrolled back to the switch, which occurred at 10:17 p.m. Clay was originally at the door, but left when Jasper walked up. They swapped spots, almost looking identical in their stances.

“I thought Clay had food poisoning?” Piper prompted, putting a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“He doesn’t look like a guy who had food poisoning,” I said, rewinding the footage yet again. Piper agreed with me. I wanted to better examine the footage, but was called away by my ringing phone. It was Mr. Stewart.

“Mr. Stewart, sir,” I answered.

“Is she safe? Where is Piper?” he yelled through the line. Piper leaned away from me, her eyes going wide in shock.

“She is and she’s here with me, in a safe house in D.C.,” I said, trying my hardest to remain calm. Piper got off from my lap so I could get out of the chair. “I was told you were being directed to your own safe house and to not attempt contact.”

“You still should have called! This is my daughter, for Christ’s sake!”

“Sir, she’s right here if you’d like to talk to her.” I handed the phone to Piper. I swear, each day that passed, it was getting harder and harder to communicate with Mr. Stewart.

“Hi Dad,” Piper seemed a bit more somber, taking the phone and walking over to the bed. He stopped yelling and I could only hear her side of the conversation. “I’m fine, just a few cuts….I am, seriously…Bucky’s taken great care of me. He saved my life…No, Dad. You should stay put. It’s fine, really. I understand…I know, Dad.”

Then, the newest response that even surprised me.

“Dad, I don’t want you to drop out of the race. I would never want you to do that….That’s just what this asshole wants. You’re the best man for the job. A little intimidation isn’t going to change that…I won’t let you.

I went back to the footage, trying to not listen in as they said their goodbyes. I decided to not tell Piper about the interaction with the Hydra agent on the roof. I prayed she wouldn’t ask either.

I was about to give up on the footage, when something caught my eye. I must have made an exclamation or something, because Piper was soon standing next to me, looking over my shoulder. “What am I looking at?”

“You see Jasper here, he’s holding his hands in front of him,” I pointed to the screen.

“Yeah? He usually stands like that.”

“But then watch,” I prompted her. In an instant, his hands were at his sides. Piper gave me a confused look. “There was no transition to the motion, just the immediate action.”

“I’m tired, what the hell are you talking about?”

I clicked a few buttons, pulling up the hidden timestamps. The image of Jasper with his hands in front of him was from 10:33 p.m. The image with his hands at his sides was from 11:02 p.m. “Some one deleted video footage.”

“Almost thirty minutes — that’s enough time to sneak a person into the apartment,” Piper realized. “Holy shit.”

I went back through the later days, running the timestamps with the footage. Three more times we found edited footage, all of which was from when we weren’t home. Jeremy probably had walked around the apartment, forcing the video to be edited.  
“You think Jasper is behind this? Clay and Chase, too?” Piper asked. She began to wring her hands together.

“That’s a strong possibility.”

“We have to tell someone,” she said, turning to walk out the door. I quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back to me.

“Not so fast, we need to be sure.”

“And how can we be sure?”

“By getting an interview with Jeremy.”


	16. Day 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be some smut ahead....Sorry for the delay - I was out of town for work for a while. Enjoy - leave a comment on your way out! :)

**Chapter 16 • Piper | Thursday, 7:30 a.m.**

“What the fuck am I doing?” I mumbled to myself for what felt like the hundredth time. But seriously, what the fuck _was_ I doing? I tightened my grip on Bucky’s metal hand — he would never feel it — almost using him as my own shield. We walked down a long hallway, getting closer to the door at the end of it, where on the other side, my stalker sat. 

Bucky somehow managed to get us an interview with Jeremy. If only for a few minutes. Apparently, he had a connection at the Department of Justice, who said there was going to be a short break between interrogation sessions, allowing us to slip in. Bucky was taking a huge risk sneaking us into this room, let alone lying to get me out of the safe house.

Originally, it was just going to be Bucky, but we thought we may have a greater chance of finding out the truth if I was there. Now a thought I regretted.

We were both wearing sweatshirts and baseball caps, which shielded our faces from nearby cameras. However, Bucky was assured this room wasn’t under surveillance.

We got to the door and Bucky turned to me, taking my free hand in his, lightly squeezing them. “You ready?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

He took that as an answer, opening the door and walking in first. He shielded me behind him, addressing Jeremy first. I couldn’t hear their interaction, thanks to a buzzing in my ears. But I had the urge to see what was happening, so I peaked around Bucky’s arm, which Jeremy noticed right away.

“You’re here! You came to see me.” He stood from his chair, not getting far thanks to his wrists being shackled to the table with handcuffs. His eyes got really big, just like the night I found him under my bed.

Bucky instinctually put me behind him. “She’s not here for you. She’s here to find out why you were in her apartment.”

“She came, she came, she came,” he kept mumbling over and over.

“Fuck,” Bucky mumbled, turning back to me. “Let’s go, this was a bad idea.”

Instead of following, I stepped past him and sat down across from Jeremy, who quieted down instantly. “Jeremy, why were you in my apartment?”

“Because I love you!” he smiled. “Why can’t you see that?”

I shook my head. “No, you don’t.”

Jeremy began saying “I do! I do!” over and over, getting louder and louder. I looked up to Bucky for help and he snapped his head at the door. “Someone’s going to hear."

I looked back to Jeremy and yelled his name, forcibly, startling all three of us in the room. “You don’t love me. And I don’t love you. You have a crush, that’s it.” Jeremy didn’t say anything, so I kept going. “Jeremy, who let you into my apartment?”

“Some guy.”

“Was he the guy standing by the door?” Bucky asked. Jeremy ignored him, only keeping his eyes on me.

“Answer him.” I said. Jeremy shook his head, still keeping his eyes one me. “A different guy, wearing a mask. I could only see his eyes. They were dark, almost black. Scary.”

“Why did they let you in?”

“They said you would be happy to see me,” he recalled, almost sounding like a child. I wondered if he was starting to realize his error. “And if you weren’t, I should kill you."

My mouth went dry and I could feel my stomach churn at his words. This man who was under my bed, and more than likely armed, was sent to kill me. And when that didn’t happen, professionals were sent in.

While I was coming to this realization, Bucky lunged across the table, taking Jeremy’s shirt into his fists. He began shaking him. But instead of yelling or screaming, like I thought he would have done, Jeremy didn’t.

“I couldn’t do it! I wouldn’t!” he said, which calmed Bucky down and eventually releasing him. “I could never hurt Piper.”

It made me sick, hearing him say my name. Bucky ushered me up, telling me we were close to our time limit. We were almost to the door when I turned, looking at Jeremy one last time. “Did you take those pictures?”

Jeremy looked at me, confused. “Pictures?”

“The letters? The package?”

He shook his head. “I only ever texted you. And watched you from across the street.”

As if that was supposed to make me feel better. But it actually kind of did. Jeremy may have been creepy, but he was harmless, if you could call it that.

Bucky was a little more forceful getting me out of the room, hurrying us down the hallway. We got to the elevator just in time, the doors closing as we saw the interrogators walk by. Bucky blew out a breath and leaned against the back wall of the elevator. He then took in my body language. “Are you okay?”

I looked over to him, still weary of the camera in the elevator. “I think you should retire that question.”

He smirked. “Sorry.” He pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around my waist. “You were amazing. You were so calm and controlled the situation.”

It was my turn to smirk. “Thanks.” We rode the rest of the ride in silence, me staying in Bucky’s arms.

We got back to the safe house without an incident. Bucky escorted me back to my room, then went through the motion of going back to his room, but using our shared door to enter mine. Honestly, the guards outside the door probably know what’s going on, but they always remain stoic and emotionless. That’s enough for me.

Bucky was back at the computer, looking over footage, but I was pacing the length of the bed, unable to get Jeremy’s calling my name from my head. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?” he said, not looking up from the computer.

“C-can you say my name?"

He had a weird look on his face, but it was quickly erased when he saw how worked up I was. “What’s wrong?”

My eyes started to tear up. Why was I having this reaction? “I-I didn’t like him saying —” Bucky cut me off with his lips, taking mine in his. His normal hand was cupping my face while his metal one was secured around my waist. My eyes fluttered shut and I melted into him.

Bucky broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. “Piper.” I kept my eyes closed and smiled, breathing in his scent. He kissed me again, then pulled away. “Piper.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. “I love your name.” He kissed my neck, then was picking me up in his arms and walking us over to the bed. “In fact, I love your name so much that I’m fully prepared to shout it out. Multiple times.”

“Sounds like the worst job to have,” I laughed, watching him with great excitement as he shed his sweatshirt and shirt.

He shrugged and undid his pants. “Someone’s gotta do it.”

Once Bucky totally shed his pants, he pushed me back onto the bed was working on mine. While he was working my jeans off, I pulled off my sweatshirt, leaving my bra on. Soon his lips were back on mine, his tongue slipping in and out of my mouth. It was sloppy and fast, but oh so delicious.

I could feel Bucky’s hardness against my thigh, his underwear the only barrier between skin-to-skin contact. His lips were moving down my neck, hitting that sweet spot behind my ear. “Mm, Bucky.” Suddenly, I realized _he_ was supposed to be saying my name. “Wait, stop,” I demanded.

Right on command, Bucky stopped, searching my face for any hurt or pain. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I kissed his jaw. “But you’re supposed to be saying my name, remember?”

He smiled and rested his head on my shoulder, relieved. “I was getting there.”

I ignored him and slid out from under his body. I stood at the end of the bed and reached my hand to his, which he accepted with his trademark smirk. I pulled him up so he stood before me, my nerves starting to flare up. I went up on my tiptoes to kiss Bucky, my hands resting on his strong chest. I could feel him smile against my lips, his hands cupping my butt.

I used Bucky’s distraction — him slipping his finger beneath the edge of my underwear — to my advantage and ran my hand down his chest to his abs, and then to his dick. When my fingers brushed against his hardness, his breath caught in his throat and his grip tightened on my butt.

“Piper,” he moaned, more as a warning, I think. His eyes, which snapped open when my hand totally cupped his length, were dark with lust and desire.

I grinned at him before getting down on my knees. “You’re starting all ready.”

I gave him a couple more rubs through his boxers before slipping my hand in and pulling him out. “Shit,” Bucky twitched. He was engorged; it had to be painful for him. Luckily, I was here to fix that.

I slowly licked a line across the underside of Bucky’s dick, from base to tip. Bucky continued to moan, which boosted my confidence and, quite frankly, made me a bit braver, so I wrapped my lips around the tip, my tongue swirling his head. “Fuck, Pipes.”

I went further, putting more of him in my mouth, moaning at him. He tasted so good and I loved how he felt in my mouth. When I moaned, Bucky cursed again, his hand coming up to the back of my head. Normally, I hated this — the handful of times I’ve given guys head. But I didn’t mind it when Bucky did it. Of course, he wasn’t rough or forcing me on him, wanting me to gag.

I took a break with my mouth, using my hands. His dick was slick with my spit, so running my hand up and down was easy. I looked up to Bucky and smirked at what I saw: his head back, eyes closed and lips reciting a silent prayer. I loved seeing him like this and, suddenly, wanted to be able to do this to him every day of my life.

It was when my mouth went to his balls that Bucky started to come. A little spurt of cum escaped, coating my hand. I switched hands and made sure to look at Bucky when I licked his come off the other one.

“I need to be in you,” he grunted, his hand now grabbing a fistful of my hair. “Fuck, I can’t last much longer.”

“Soon,” I responded, taking him in my mouth once more. As I worked his head with my tongue, Bucky cupped a breast with his metal hand, sliding my bra cup down and weaseling my boob out. My nipple became fully erect when I felt the coldness from his hand, which only turned me on more.

We kept our eyes on each other as my head bobbed up and down, faster and faster, my cheeks hallowing. I could feel pressure building down below, so I put a hand on myself to keep the pressure in check. Bucky saw. There was no getting anything by him.

“If I can’t touch you, you can’t either.”

I released him from my mouth with a pop, my eyes still staring into his. “If you come, then you can touch me.”

“Jesus!”

“Hm, not my name, but I’ll take it.” I gave him a devilish smile and put my mouth back on him. A couple more sucks later and Bucky was telling me he was going to come. He tried pulling me up to him, but I pushed his hands away. He grunted, a low, guttural sound I’ve never heard before. I was about to ask what was wrong when I felt liquid in my mouth. He was coming. A lot, let me tell you.

When he was finally done, I released him from my mouth and swallowed. I had never done that before, with any guy. It was just so different with Bucky.

“Piper,” Bucky moaned, pulling me up to him. My arms wrapped around his waist and our lips were once again on each other. Bucky held my face to his, kissing me hard. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

We kissed for a bit more. Bucky fully removed my bra and kicked off his underwear, which was already by his ankles. “Now you get to touch me.”

Bucky smirked, slipping his fingers in the band of my underwear, sliding it down my legs. “Have I mentioned that I love your ass?” I shook my head, still trying to catch my breath. I could feel his hardness pressing against my stomach. This man was insatiable. Then, all of a sudden, Bucky had me on the bed, face down. “I love it so much, that I want to stare at it as I fuck you. Is that okay?”

“Y-yes,” I breathlessly moaned.

And that’s just what he did. I laid there as Bucky fucked me from behind. Eventually, he helped me up, so we were doing it doggy style. He was going so deep in this position, the sounds of him slapping against me echoing in the room. At one point, I craned my neck to take in the view, my heart practically stopping: Bucky was gripping my hips, moving back and forth, his head thrown back. His chest and abs were glistening with sweat, every single muscle defined and on display just for me. The sight alone was enough to put me over the edge, making me orgasm.

“ _James!_ ” I cried out. I saw stars, fireworks, an array of colors and lightning. I’ve never experienced an explosion like that. Bucky pumped into me a couple more times before he came for the second time. He laid down next to me, pulling my right leg over his waist so we would be closer. We laid there in silence, trying to return our breathing to normal pace.

“You called me James,” Bucky said. He was running his fingertips over my leg, giving me a breakout of goosebumps every so often.

“I did?”

“Yeah, when you orgasmed,” he paused, like he was recalling something. “Come to think of it, you called me ‘James’ when Jeremy was under your bed.”

“Oh…I don’t even think I knew,” I said, shrugging. “Well, after an orgasm like that, there’s no way ‘Bucky’ will do.” He laughed, now gripping my calf. “I guess I just feel safe with you. Like you see the real me and I see the real you.” I looked at him, hoping he felt the same way. “James.”

He slowly smiled, a real smile that showed off his brilliant white teeth. It was infectious, because I smiled, too, and felt my heart flutter. “I see you, too, Piper.” He lips enveloped mine, giving me the perfect kiss. I was breathless by the time we broke. “I’m falling for you. Hard.”

My fingers traced along his stubble, loving the roughness. “I’m already on the ground.”


	17. Day 13

**Chapter 17 • Bucky | Friday, 4:30 p.m.**

Piper and I spent the rest of Thursday in bed, sans clothes. Part of me hoped we would never have to leave the safe house. I loved that we spent our time in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, having sex whenever we wanted. (Two more times on Thursday, for the record.)

Every second, I was falling more and more in love with her. And it wasn’t just due to the sex. (Great sex.) We had great conversation, talking about anything and everything.

I found out that my services — security, mind you — weren’t being paid for by the taxpayers, like I had originally thought. Mr. Stewart was paying for that personally, which really didn’t do anything to lessen the guilt I felt about bedding her. In fact, Mr. Stewart didn’t even take a paycheck as Vice President, and he had no plans of taking one as a President. The family lived off of profits from House of Grace, which had been purchased by another fashion conglomerate, but the Stewarts still own a small percentage of stock. Even Piper’s schooling and apartment had been paid for through Mrs. Stewart’s foresight.

“Did it hurt, getting your tattoo?” I asked her after our second time go around. I traced the sunflower petals with my thumbnail, smiling when I saw the goosebumps break along her flesh.

“Yeah, probably not the greatest place for a tattoo. But it had to be somewhere my Dad would never see.” She told me it was like a million bees stinging into her skin. But once her body got used to the pain, it was like an annoying tickling. “I can’t believe you don’t have a tattoo!”

“I thought about it, after I got out of the service. Never got around to it, I guess.” Honestly, I had enough procedures done on my arm and gashes sewn back together, there was no way I was willingly sitting in a tattoo chair, having needles drilled into me.

“What would you get?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

“‘Mom’ tattooed on your arm? A big ass American flag?” I chuckled, imagining all of those on my arm, like most guys in my unit had. “I know, I think you should get my face, right here.” She pressed her finger to my left pec, over my heart and just below where the metal implant started. “Or you could get a piper, like the person playing the instrument. Or the bird piper.”

I laughed as she laughed at her own joke. But seriously, I would wear her face on me. (That sounded weird.)

I told Piper a little bit about my time in the service. What some of my missions entailed, what some of the guys were like, how lonely it was at times. I even told her about my nightmares and anxiety attacks. Besides Steve and Sam, no one else knows about my awful nightmares and fears.

“How is your arm attached?” she asked, tracing the designs that ran along my bicep.

“This,” I touched the base, where the metal began. “Is the cybernetic implant. It’s fused with my skin, muscles, nerves and bone, so it actually acts like an arm.” I lifted my arm and made a fit with my hand. “My arm is connected with extensions of wires, which communicates the signals I tell it.”

She slid her hand over the fist. “What made you want to get an arm like this?”

“I wanted it to be functional. I know some other guys who have prosthetics, but they’re not that functional. I couldn’t live my life like that,” I bit my lip, wondering just how much I wanted to get into it. “It was an experimental surgery, but it paid off. I’m very grateful.”

I told her how the nerves in my shoulder to the middle of that side of my back are deadened, thanks to the fusing of the implant.

“So you can’t feel anything?” She began to poke my shoulder with her nail. I could see the indent it made, but couldn’t feel a thing. “Wow, you’re like the perfect cuddle buddy. Your arm will never go dead with my weight.” She traced along the implant, carefully fingering the scars that surrounded the base. “And you shower with it and everything?”

I laughed, her questions were funny to me. “Yes, I keep it on. It takes a lot of work to get it off and calibrated. I only do it every couple years or so.”

I watched as she gently kissed my scars. She rested her head over my heart and hummed. “Thanks for your service.” I didn’t say anything back; I just slid my hand to her back and pulled her closer.

After a late lunch and another round of love making, we found ourselves growing tired, so I got up and turned all the lights off, putting us in complete darkness. I was just about to sleep when I heard her voice, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I said I’m sorry,” I could feel her shift, turning her body toward me so we were face to face. The red light from the alarm clock next to the bed was the only light in the safe room, but it was enough so I could see the silhouette of her face.

“What are you possibly sorry for?”

“For all the times I called you an asshole,” she said. “Or just how I spoke to you, in general. It was all uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been called worse things.”

“It’s not fine. You’re doing your job and I’ve been a spoiled little brat, mad that I wasn’t getting my way,” she said, shifting so she was even closer to me. I could smell a trace of her perfume and the mint from her toothpaste. “I can be awful.”

“You could never be awful. And apology accepted. Please don’t think of it anymore. Honestly, I can be a bit of an asshole,” I traced her cheek with my index finger. “Besides, I think you only called me one two or three times.”

“Seventeen.”

“Huh?”

“I called you an ‘asshole’ to your face three times, but behind your back fourteen more times.”

“Fuck, you’re savage.”

She laughed. Instead of saying anything else, she pressed her lips to mine, which I happily accepted. “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, Piper.”

On Friday, Piper spent the morning reading a couple magazines she had delivered the day before — any activity on the internet was forbidden, while she was in hiding — while I spent the morning on the phone. I called in a _lot_ of a favors.

I walked back into her room with a smile on my face, which Piper noticed right away. “What has you smiling like that?”

“You’ll see,” I teased.

She closed her magazine and sat up on the bed. “You’re up to something.”

“I am, in fact, we need to go.”

“Where are we going?”

“I believe we have a fashion show to get ready for.”

I don’t really know what I expected her to do. Jump up and down? Scream with excitement? Kiss me? But I know what I did not expect: the reaction I got. “Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t go to the show!”

“Why not?”

“Because I was nearly killed the day before yesterday! _We_ were nearly killed!”

“But we weren’t.”

“My Dad was for this?”

I had to laugh at that one. “God, no. That was an hour debate. He’s not thrilled, but he saw my reasons. He wants you to celebrate this success. After much reassuring, he agreed.” Pretty sure he hates my guts now, though. There was a lot of yelling. “Pipes, you’ve worked so hard to make this show happen. I would feel awful if you had to miss it.” Piper remained stoic. “Listen, I’ve called in favors. A lot of favors. There will be more than enough security there, watching every inch of the building. We’ll stay just until the last person hits the stage, then we’ll be back here.”

She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. I —” her voice cracked.

Instinctually, I cupped her face in my hands, wiping away any tears that dare escape down her cheeks. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Or anybody else. Do you trust me?”

She nodded her head. “I trust you.”

“I’m not forcing you to do this. If you really don’t want to, we can stay here. But I know how much this means to you. I want to give you this.”

She gave me a small smile, reaching up to kiss me. “Thank you. Seriously. But I don’t have anything here to wear or get ready with.”

“Now, now, Cinderella, let your fairy godmother take care of you.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Did you just call yourself a fairy godmother?"

“You know, it sounded weird the second it left my mouth, but I had to commit to it.” She laughed and kissed me again.

Piper gathered her things and we were on our way. After a few turns down some streets, Piper realized where we were going: Jason’s and Dinah’s. Once we parked, she raced out of the car and to their second-story apartment.

“Piper! Oh my god! We were so worried!” Jason had her wrapped in a huge hug by the time I caught up with Piper.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call you guys,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

“No worries, Terminator over here kept us in the know.”

She glanced over and me, thanking me with her eyes. After the reunion in the hall, Jason whisked us into his apartment. It was a decent size, decorated in blacks and whites. The two started talking about the fashion show outfits, which I took as my moment to bow out.

“I have to get some things from the office. I’ll be back in an hour to get you,” I told Piper, who kissed me goodbye. I was a little nervous that she did so in front of her friend. Thankfully, his squeal of delight gave me a boost of confidence. I’ve always liked that guy.

I stopped by the office — Avenger Security — to grab some gear, as well as go over tonight’s game plan. A lot of team members were putting their necks on the line for this outing. In addition to Steve and Sam, there was Clint, who would give us eyes in the air; Natasha, who would be backstage with the models; Tony, who was stationed by the door, masking as a greeter; Thor, Peter and Drax, who were all extra muscle in case things went sour.

It’s not that I was necessarily planning on things going bad, but I had a feeling if one of Piper’s security guys were behind this, it would go down tonight. What better way to catch the guy responsible than luring him to us?

I was in the middle of double checking extra magazine rounds when Steve cleared his throat behind me.

“Quite a mission you just laid out,” he said. “Are you sure you’re doing this for the right reasons?”

I was taken back by his tone. “What better reason do I have than taking down Hydra? Putting an end to this.”

Steve nodded. “Great. Just making sure that’s both of our missions.”


	18. Day 13 (still)

**Chapter 18 • Piper | Friday, 5:42 p.m.**

Spending some time with Jase was just what I needed. Since Dinah was already at the convention center for the show, we could be more serious in our conversations. We talked about the shooting and how I interrogated Jeremey. Jason was amazed at my strength.

Then, like expected, the conversation went to Bucky.

“So, Super Solider.” Jason said as a way of a question, giving me a look in the mirror, as he finished putting my hair up.

I smirked. “I don’t kiss and tell.” Jason whistled and laughed.

“Well now I know everything I need to know!”

“He’s an amazing guy,” I offered, turning serious. “He literally saved my life. And he was there to pick up the pieces. I-I don’t know how I would have made it through without him.”

“You love him.” Jase said it, not questioned it.

I just nodded. “I think I do.”

He hugged my shoulders and kissed the side of my face. “Good for you. You need some happiness in your life.”

Jason finished my hair and put some makeup on my face. Since Bucky confessed he likes me without makeup, I decided to go for a more natural look. (However, I am keeping my red lipstick. Because I will die before I give that up for a guy!) I was on my own with the dress, since Jase had to get backstage of the show to do a couple drag queens’ makeup, including his own. I was in my dress — a black Versace evening gown with a lace-trimmed neckline that fit like a glove — when I heard a knock at the door. It was Bucky, looking extra delicious in a black suit.

I opened the door to let him in, his eyes widening when he saw me. “Wow. You look. W-wow.”

“Thanks.” I blushed. He looked really good too. His hair was slicked back, much like the first night we met, but not as tight. His suit was different, too. More…expensive? “You look very handsome too.”

“I have something for you,” he said, fishing out a box from his pocket. 

“What more can you possibly have for me?” He opened the box and revealed a bracelet. It was a simple rose gold band that clasped with a tiny hook. It alternated with diamonds and pearls along its front. It was gorgeous and perfectly went with my dress. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you.” He put the bracelet on me, his hands a little shaky. After it was on, he slipped his fingers through mine. “Ready?”

“Yes, after you zip me up.” I turned so Bucky could zip up the dress, his knuckles running along my skin every so softly. Once I was zipped up, I turned to him and kissed him. “Thank you, for everything.”

He ran his hand up and down my back as a light blush creeped onto his face. “You deserve this.”

We were about to leave the apartment when I stopped Bucky, wiping the lipstick off from his lips. He smirked, taking my hand and kissing it. “Oh! And I should also tell you,” I got close to his ear, but kept my eyes on his face. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

He groaned. “Oh, fuck me.”

I smiled wide. “Maybe later.”

As we drove over to the convention center, Bucky told me about the plan: the extra security, the “tools” he and his friends had on them, and where I would be. Spoiler alert, I was to remain backstage, out of view from the public and never to step out from the stage. Dinah was already told what to say in my “absence.”

“Do you think anything will happen tonight?” I stared at Bucky, looking for any hint in his reaction. He sighed, taking a full minute before responding.

“I’m not going to lie, Pipes. It’s a possibility.” I gulped. “But there’s tons of security here and we’re ready. We’re on the offense here.”

“I don’t know sport terms.”

“We’ve got them where we want them.”

I released the breath I was holding. He sounded confident, therefore I should feel better. But why didn’t I?

A few minutes later, we were pulling up to the Walter E. Washington Convention Center, the largest in the city. It was connected by a Marriott Hotel and a great view of the Lincoln Memorial. Bucky parked in the back, right by the loading dock and the back entrance to our stage. He helped me from the car and quickly ushered us inside, keeping his hands on my upper back — all very professional.

“We’re entering backstage,” he commanded. I thought he was talking to me, until I realized he had an earpiece in his ear. He was talking to the rest of his team.

As we made it to our spot, we were instantly joined by Dinah, who was talking a mile a minute.

“Oh my _Lord_! You’re alive! We were so worried,” she gave me a tight hug. But instead of waiting for my response, she continued. “This is a nightmare! I don’t know how you’ve been so calm about everything. The caterers served crawfish instead of shrimp — how does that get fucked up? — and the florist used carnations — carnations! — in the main stage piece. Not all of the donors showed up yet and I haven’t had time to change yet. And I haven’t even worked on my speech yet, well, what was going to be your speech. You look gorgeous by the way!”

“Dinah!” I laughed. “I changed from crawfish to shrimp a few weeks ago, because that’s this company’s specialty. Carnations show up better and they’ll hold up under the lights. All the donors will show up.” I gripped her shoulders. “And for the love of God, go change. I’ll get the speech. It’s all handled.”

“What would I do without you?” she whined. I was about to say something when Bucky chuckled from behind me. Dinah shot him a dirty look before leaving to change.

“She’s high maintenance,” he mumbled. 

“She can be a bit much, I know. But she always comes through,” I defended.

Bucky helped me find a pad a paper and I began writing down what our mission of the fashion show was (which Dinah already knew, but just wanted to be sure given how nervous she is) and listed some key people to thank, as well as mention about how to purchase any outfits they may like. I left the speech with the stage manager, who promised to give it to Dinah. 

“I have to give Dinah credit, she was able to wrangle a lot of bodies to help out with this,” I said, hoping it would convince Bucky she was a great friend. “She even got some people from a local sewing club to help dress and fit things to the models.”

“That’s nice.”

I rolled my eyes at his lack of sincerity and peeked around the side of the curtain, noting the packed crowd. There were photographers and reporters — no doubt hoping to get a glimpse of me after the shooting — and throngs of people dressed to the nines. But more importantly, in the front row, people who supported this show and would hopefully donate big bucks to help keep the infant unit ward of the children’s hospital open.

Bucky must have known what I was thinking — of course he did — because he ran his hand up and down my back. “This will work.” Or was he talking about the guys trying to kill me?

The show began right away with models entering from the other side of the stage, walking two by two down the runway. It was thrilling to see my clothes come to life. Me wearing them around the apartment isn’t as spectacular as this! (I wonder if this is how my mom felt at her shows.) I was enthralled with the lights, glitz and glamour of it all. Yes, I most definitely wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

I turned to Bucky, about to ask to leave and go somewhere else — everything was handled! — but he had his finger to his earpiece and a look of murder on his face. “I’ll be right there.” He huffed out a breath. “There’s something Steve and Sam want me to see. Let me get Natasha over here.”

I waved him off. “It’s fine. Literally, no one is over here but us. And besides Dinah and Jase, no one knows I’m here.” Bucky was chewing on his lip, double guessing what to do. “Seriously. Go. I’ll stay right here.”

“I’ll be quick.”

He went out the back door in a flash, leaving me by myself. I turned back to the stage and watched the models — the drag queens finally taking the stage, eliciting a deafening cheer and applause from the crowd. Jase — and his friends from Kol — put on a mini-show, advertising the drag club. They were, after all, a huge supporter of the show. I glanced over across the stage once in a while to Natasha, who was having a great time. She waved once, joining in on the cheering when Jase did a back flip and drop. In heels. 

I was too swept up in the show to realize someone had entered the area from the same door Bucky just ran out of. That is, until, I felt something pressing into my back.

“You scream, you’re dead.”

That voice.

I knew that voice.

I slowly turned my head, my blood running cold and eyes widening when I saw Jasper.

“You’re behind this.” Fucking knew I hated him. He nodded. “Why?”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ll be dead.”

I started to panic. Just what I didn’t want to happen was going to happen. I shook my head and tried to regain my sense. “No, not here. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“Good girl,” he sneered, pressing the gun harder into my lower back. “If you want everyone to remain unharmed, you’ll come with me.”

I obeyed, giving one last look to the stage, hoping that someone — anyone — would notice what was happening. Nope. Nada. Not even Natasha.

Fuck.

Jasper led me out the door and to the small parking lot, where a SUV was waiting for us. I stalled when we reached Bucky’s vehicle, trying to formulate a plan. “Get in the fucking van.”

Shit, what do I do? “Can you wait? These shoes are killing me!” I took them off and put them on the hood of the car.

“Come on,” he pushed me harder, causing me to fall. (All part of my plan to stall.) When I didn’t get up fast enough, he gripped my arm and yanked me up. After I fake tripped again, Jasper was catching on. “Don’t be cute.”

I was still putting up a fight getting in to the car, starting to scream, hoping to draw any attention to myself. But all that ended when I felt a sharp, searing pain to the back of my head, followed by my vision going black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the dress: https://whiterunway.com/dresses/bridesmaid/full-length-dresses/chloe-lace-gown.html#&gid=null&pid=2  
> This is the bracelet: https://www.loveaudryrose.com/rose-gold-pearl-diamond-bracelet/


	19. Day 13 (still, still)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few chapters left! But this is a long one!

**Chapter 19 • Bucky | Friday, 8:14 p.m.**

I raced over to the hotel as soon as Steve paged me. He was waiting in the lobby, not saying anything until we got in the elevator.

“Room service made a delivery to the wrong room, but upon entry found some suspicious materials,” he said without emotion. “Potassium chlorate. Some empty pipes. Sound familiar?”

“Pipe bomb.”

Steve nodded. “That’s not all.”

The elevator dinged, revealing the sixth floor to us. We got off, with Steve leading us down to the last room down the hall. He opened the door, revealing Sam, who gave me a look that worried me. Before I could ask, Steve led me to the bathroom.

“Room service found him.”

It was Chase, folded up in the small hotel bathtub, haphazardly concealed by the shower curtain, a bullet in his head.

“Holy shit.”

“His record came up clean when we did the background check a couple weeks ago,” Sam said. “Either he’s a double crosser, or he got caught up in this mess.”

“We had a theory Jasper and Clay were behind this. Have any intel on them?”

Sam shook his head. “Haven’t heard a thing, but I’ll get the word out.”

“While Sam does that, we have to get all hands on deck,” Steve said. “There’s a bomb out there somewhere.”

“Fuck,” I shouted. “Piper!”

I took off running, with Steve right on my heels. We opted for the stairs this time, taking them two by two. “Everyone, be aware, there may be a bomb.” Steve said into his earpiece.

“Well that’s not how I was expecting this night to go,” Tony replied. Steve rattled off some details about the potential of bomb, given the scraps we found in the room.

As the backdoor of the convention center came into view, I grabbed my gun from its holster. Throwing the door open, my worst fear came true: no Piper, just Natasha.

“I swear, she was just here! I looked out to the crowd and then back here and she was gone!”

I was seeing red. I could barely grasp what was going on, thankfully Steve took control of the next order. “Miss Stewart is gone. Everyone, fan out.”

“Clint, did you see anything from your angle?” I asked, numb.

“Nothing from up here.”

“Shit,” I angrily ran my hand through my hair, messing it up. I was suddenly feeling hot. Too hot. I needed to get air and clear my head, then figure out my next step. I threw open the door and walked out to the loading dock, pacing back and forth. As I was pacing, a mass of black and red caught my eye on the hood of my car. I jumped down from the dock and went over to it. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What can be so funny right now?” Steve asked, Natasha by his side.

I showed him: Piper’s shoes.

“She never would have left these. They’re her favorite Louboutin heels; limited edition.”

“Since when do you know shoes?” Natasha snickered.

“Since Piper went on and on about them for an hour.” I scanned the area looking for any signs. Nothing seemed out of place. Then, I remembered my Plan B and whipped out my phone.

“Calling for backup?”

“No, tracking Piper,” I said as I opened the app and activated her tracker. “I put a bug in her bracelet.”

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve whispered.

I know I was breaking a ton of protocols and my ethics were out the window. But I didn’t care. This is the woman I love. “Looks like she’s at a warehouse, not too far from here.” I turned to Steve and Natasha and then spoke into my earpiece. “We’ve located Pi — Miss Stewart — at a nearby warehouse. Sam, you come with me for surveillance. Everyone else, grab gear and follow us shortly after. Except Tony. You need to inform Mr. Stewart.”

“Sure, give me the hard job.”

Sam and I raced up to the warehouse, running all thirty-six blocks.“Have I mentioned lately that I hate you?”

I groaned. “I know, I know.”

Sam used Redwing to survey the warehouse. It was large, so it took a while, but finally, a heat signature was picked up. Three, to be exact. Viewing through Sam’s wrist monitor, we could see two taller heat signatures in front of a smaller one: Piper. She looked to be sitting down. Then, the two taller figures were leaving.

“Let’s cut them off. They won’t be expecting us.”

We both slid against the wall, following the figures until we reached the side of the building. Their blue SUV was waiting out by the door, so we used it as cover. As we crouched in position, I took out my knife from its holster and slashed the front and back tire. We both drew our weapons as the door opened, revealing Jasper and Clay. Fuckers. It took everything in me to not jump up and beat the living hell out of them.

“I can’t believe she bit me,” I could hear Clay say. I felt a sense of pride hearing that. “We just should have killed her.” Then they laughed, which pissed me off. I looked over at Sam and he shook his head.

“They need to go with us alive, Buck,” he whispered. I knew he was right, but damn it. I wanted to kill them.

At the count of three, we both jumped up from our spots, guns up and ready. “It’s over.”

Clay was taken back, but Jasper just smirked, like he expected this. We walked over to them, guns still drawn. Sam worked to cuff a struggling Clay while I worked to cuff Jasper. “Why?”

He smirked. “This is just the first part of Hydra’s rebirth.”

My eyes widened. I figured Jasper was a member of Hydra, but never pegged him as starting its Renaissance. My hesitation was all Jasper needed, distracting me enough to free a trick knife from the toe of his boot, kicking me in the thigh. I yelled out, but kept my balance, hitting him with my my metal arm.

In the shuffle, I was disarmed, my handgun falling to the ground. We began exchanging blows, hand to hand. He got me good in the jaw, but everything else was to the chest. When one of mine sent him back, I took the opportunity to once again grab my knife from my holster. My training took over — knife in my natural hand while my metal arm was used for balance and support. I got a good swipe across his stomach, sending him to the ground. I was about to finish him when I was suddenly pulled back. It was Thor, with Steve next to him.

“No, Buck, we need him alive,” Steve said. “We’ll take care of this, go find Piper.”

My gut sank. How could I be so stupid and let myself get wrapped up in this? I took off into the warehouse, gun once again drawn. As I tiptoed my way into the building, I took careful note of any booby traps. There was nothing I came across that seemed out of place. Such an odd place to take Piper and leave her.

“Buck, we found some snipers out here,” Steve’s voice came through my earpiece. “It looks like we’ve taken all of them out from here, but just be on alert.”

“Will do.” I opened a heavy metal door and entered what was an old conveyer room — the machinery still there in broken pieces. That’s when I saw Piper. She was tied to a chair and gagged, but her face lit up when she saw me. I raced over, dropping to my knees in front of her, and took the gag off. Her dress was ripped and she had some scratches on her arms; she obviously put up a good fight. “Are you okay?”

She huffed out a breath. “Oh just dandy. Will you fucking stop asking me that?” I couldn’t help but give a small smirk. “I have a huge headache starting. Jasper hit me in the back of my head."

“We’ve got him now,” I supplied. After I got her untied, I went to grab her arm to pull her up when she began to protest.

“No! I can’t move!” Then, my heart stopped beating. “There’s a bomb under my chair.”

Tears began to form in her eyes as the realization hit me, making me go numb: Piper, my Piper, was just one wrong move away from dying. This woman, who had the biggest heart, was being made an example of just because of her father’s politics. It’s disgusting. I could feel bile in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down before taking a look under her chair. Indeed, there was the pipe bomb, wired to the chair.

“They said it’s a pressure-sensing detonator. If I get up from the chair, it will go off.” I kept staring at it as Piper talked, tears suddenly coming to my eyes, too. This can’t be happening.

“We can get you out of here,” I tried to sound positive, but was failing. “I just need some time.”

Piper saw through me, shaking her head. “No, Bucky.”

We stared at each other, not knowing what to do next. The worst part was being unable to touch her, because the extra pressure would set the thing off. All I could do was listen to her sniffle.

“I guess if this is the end, you should know how much I appreciate everything you — and your team — has done for me,” she started. “I’m so lucky to have met you, James.” I closed my eyes and began to shake my head, tears now leaking out. “I love you.”

I felt my heart break. The phrase I hoped to hear was being said as last words. It wasn’t right and I wasn’t going to stand for it. I would die before I would let that happen.

“I love you too, Piper,” I said back, standing up and forming a plan in my head. “But you’re not dying today.” Piper didn’t respond, letting me walk around the room looking for anything that would aide me. I picked up a couple of old idlers and an idea formed in my head.

“Found the bomb, working on extraction of victim. No one enter,” I spoke into my earpiece. Before I could fully hear the protest from, well, everyone, I took the thing out of my ear and crushed it with my boot. I needed complete silence if I was going to do this.

I walked back over to Piper and showed her the idlers. “These are going to replace your weight.”

“I think I weigh more than those two pieces of equipment,” she suggested.

“There’s more crap around here. All we need to do replace the weight we are taking off in sync.”

“That’s too dangerous.” A few more tears dropped from her eyes. “Have you done this before?”

“No. Do you trust me?”

She hesitated, looking from me to the idlers. After a few seconds, she let out a breath. “Yes. I mean, it’s not like it can get any worse, right?”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

I surveyed the bomb once more and then the chair, noting Piper sat more to one side than in the middle, allowing me to easily stack materials once she slowly removed herself. _This is good, this is good,_ I told myself. I grabbed a few more pieces of equipment and made a pile nearby. There would be plenty of options to mirror Piper’s weight.

“On the count of three, shift all the way to the side,” I told her. “One, two….three.” She shifted and I placed my knee in the space next to her.

“What are you doing?” Piper snapped.

“Balancing the weight,” I gulped. Okay, nothing bad happened. “Another, count of three.”

On three, she shifted forward slightly, letting me place an idler behind her. On another count, I was able to place another one. On the third count, I removed my knee (my leg was burning, thanks to my cut from Jasper) and placed some gears in its place. I figured we had two more chances before Piper was forced to drop from the chair.

On this round of three, I placed a wheel and stacked another idler at the same time. I was starting to sweat and could feel my heart rate quicken. “This will be the last one. We need to be perfect.”

This would be the biggest pressure change, so I needed to find the right weight. There was nothing in my pile, so I began to scan the room. I settled on a broken part of a feed chute.

“Ready?”

Piper, who just a hair from leaving the chair, was supporting her entire weight with her legs. “Hurry!”

On three, Piper dropped to the floor and I placed the chute in her spot, squeezing my eyes shut and bracing for the worst. When nothing happened, I slowly opened my eyes, almost like that was going to set the bomb off. I looked around, noting nothing was disrupted. Piper had the same look on her face.

“Holy shit!”

“It fucking worked,” I finished for her. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

As we neared the door I stopped Piper, who raised an eyebrow at me taking off my jacket. “Really? Worried about all the bad guys seeing me in my dress?”

I smirked, unbuttoning my dress shirt. “Not quite.” I ripped off my bulletproof vest off and put it on Piper. It was loose, so I took off my belt and tightened it to her. “There’s the potential of active shooters.” Piper’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. I quickly did up a few buttons on my shirt and put my jacket back on. “Let’s go!"

I opened the door to exit, but before either of us could leave the room we heard a clang, instantly making us freeze. We never had the chance to look behind us to check the chair, because we were both suddenly thrown off our feet by the bomb.

I don’t know how long time had passed, but I opened my eyes to find Piper. There was a loud ringing and my eyes could barely focus, but Piper (and her two twins) was over me saying something. She had some cuts on her face, but it looked like nothing major.

Then I felt it, a searing pain in my stomach. I looked down, but all I could see was blood. Suddenly, I was looking back up at Piper, who was holding my face, yelling at me. I still couldn’t hear her.

Piper’s face was soon joined by Steve, then Sam. The ringing started to die down, just enough for me to make out what Piper was saying.

“Hold on, Bucky! Hold on!”


	20. Day 14

**Chapter 20 • Bucky | Saturday, 10:02 p.m.**

I knew I was dreaming. It was the same dream I’d had ever since I lost my arm: me on the train, running to find the bomb before it could detonate. But this time, I was running to save Piper and just as I was close enough to reach her, she fell down a mountain. Even though I knew it was a dream, I couldn’t wake up. Instead, I had to watch Piper die over and over.

After the fifth time of Piper dying, I was strong enough to wake myself up. My eyes snapped open and I fought the urge to scream, settling for a gasp. After I caught my breath, I scanned my surroundings. Judging by all the white, I was in a hospital room. Odd, I felt no pain.

“You’re on a lot of pain killers,” a voice answered for me. Piper. Of course she would know what I was thinking. She was sitting in a nearby chair, tightly folded into a ball, like she had been sleeping. She got up from the chair a hoodie — an “Avengers Security” hoodie, to be exact — stopping just below her jean clad thighs.

“Come here often?” I came up with, smirking at the chuckle I got from Piper. I scooted over in the bed so she could sit next to me, but immediately regretted it. A sharp pain started in my stomach, but it dulled out soon enough.

“Be careful,” Piper whispered, pulling her chair up to my bedside instead. Her closeness gave me a better look of her injuries: some small cuts across her cheeks and lip and neck and a gash over her eyebrow that was closed with a few stitches. I gently traced the gash with my index finger. She also had a couple fingers taped together in a splint, so she gripped my hand with her left.

“What happened?” I asked, before I started coughing. My throat was so dry. Piper took a cup off the side of the bed, bringing it to my lips. I finished the cup, which Piper returned to the bedside table before she responded.

“The bomb threw us across the room. And thanks to all the junk in there, sent metal and machinery pieces everywhere, like in your torso.” I ran my hand over my chest, stopping when I felt the padding of the bandages under my hospital gown. “It’s amazing you’re alive, Bucky. The metal rod missed every one of your organs. It stopped just a few centimeters from a major nerve.”

I also had a deep cut in my thigh from Jasper’s knife, which was now closed with several stitches.

Thankfully, no one else was hurt in the explosion and the fashion show went on without a hitch, raising enough money to keep the children’s hospital wing open. But, the whole event was the only thing dominating the news, Piper said. Every news station from around the world was parked outside the hospital, hoping to get a glimpse of Piper or myself. Thankfully, there was no TV in my room.

“It’s all my fault this happened,” I couldn’t help but feel angry. “I shouldn’t have let you go to the fashion show. You almost died.”

She cut me off with her hand over my mouth. “Bucky, if it wasn’t for you, I would have. Jasper had this planned for the longest time, so it would have happened no matter where I was.” Piper told me how Jasper confessed to having a plan to break into the safe house to kidnap her. “The FBI and Avenger Security were able to nab some more Hydra agents and stop a lot of other attacks from coming to life. So really, having this happen was a blessing in disguise.”

That did nothing to help the guilt I was feeling. “Yeah, but you got hurt. I promised you that wouldn’t happen.”

“A few cuts and two sprained fingers. It’s nothing really,” she paused. “You putting the bullet proof vest on me probably saved my life.” I gave a weak smile. “Seriously, without you here I would have been dead a long time ago, clearly. So thank you.

Before I could protest anymore, Piper leaned over the bed and (carefully) sealed her lips over mine. My hand automatically went to cup her face as I kissed her back. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was filled with loved. We broke a part, but Piper kept her face near me. “I love you,” she said.

I felt like I was floating on air. To hear it for the first time — outside of a life or death situation — was indescribable. I wanted to hear it over and over. “I love you, too.”

We kissed again, this time a little more frantic. Piper pulled away when her lip started to hurt, apologizing. “Also, I don’t know if you realize this, but it’s technically our two week anniversary.”

“It’s Saturday?” She nodded. “I feel bad, I didn’t get you anything.”

Piper laughed. “Seeing your ass in a hospital gown will be the greatest gift, when the time comes.” She once again took the cup off the side table. “How about for your gift I get you some more ice chips?”

“I could go for a burger.”

“Sorry, Barnes. You’re on the ice chip diet right now. Maybe by morning you can move up to broth.”

“You’re mean, Nurse Piper.”

She playfully glared at me, a devilish smirk appearing on her beautiful face. “Just wait until your sponge bath.”

Piper went to get the ice chips, as well as grab a cup of coffee and make a couple phone calls. She was really excited to have her cellphone back. That was fine, it gave me a minute to collect my thoughts and process all the information I took in. I was in the middle of trying to remember my last thoughts from the explosion when there was a knock on the frame of the door.

It was Mr. Stewart.

“Sargent Barnes, may I come in?”

“Of course, sir.” I tried to sit up, to be more professional, but the sharp pain cut me off. Damn it all.

Mr. Stewart sat in Piper’s vacated chair, gently resting his hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

I smirked. “I hardly feel a thing, thanks to the morphine. But I’ll bounce back.”

He patted my shoulder a couple times, then leaned back into the chair. “I don’t even know how to thank you. Piper told me how you gave her your bulletproof vest and shielded her. And everything else you’ve done for her.” Mr. Stewart paused. He took in a sharp breath and I could see the tears form in his eyes. “She’s my whole world. I can’t lose her. And thanks to you, she’s still here with me.”

“Just doing my job, sir.”

“Well, I thank you. Truly.” Mr. Stewart cleared his throat, sitting on the edge of his seat. “If you ever need anything — some manpower, access, equipment or even a reference, let me know.”

This suddenly sounded like a “kiss off” speech. The hairs on my neck started to stand on edge. “But?”

Mr. Stewart huffed out a breath, silent for a few seconds and staring at the ground, like he was carefully choosing his words. “It ends with that.”

“Sir?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sargent Barnes. I know you and my daughter are close. Romantically, speaking.” My gut sank. “I know just how charming she can be — she gets it from her mother. But you must realize, this can never be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I realize you’ve saved her life, but quite frankly, it wouldn’t have needed to be saved if you would have kept her in the safe house. You assured me she would be safe at the fashion show. But she wasn’t. I’m sure she talked you into it, but at the end of the day, you put her in danger by taking her outside.” He was right. He was fucking right. “And let’s not forget about the other handful of times she was in danger when she was under your protection.”

I had to interrupt and defend myself, but I couldn’t. He was right.

“Even if you two did have a relationship, there’s always going to be danger in your line of work. Do you really want to bring Piper into that world?”

I stared down at my hands. I could taste bile in the back of my throat. The though of Piper in danger, once again, made me sick. “No, I don’t want that.”

“I didn’t think so.” He stood up from the chair, buttoning his jacket and adjusting his American flag pin on the lapel. “This needs to end, now. I trust you’ll see it through.”

Before I could respond, Piper walked into the room, stopping in her tracks when she saw her father. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see how Sargent Barnes was doing. Give him my appreciation.” Mr. Stewart had a warm smile on his face, even convincing me he was here for a friendly chat. I remained silent as the two talked a little bit. “Well, I have to get back. I’ll leave you two alone.” He kissed Piper’s cheek before turning back to me. “I enjoyed our conversation, Sargent Barnes. Get well soon.”

I gave him a pitiful wave as a goodbye. Piper smirked over the interaction, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Can’t imagine the conversation was that thrilling. What did you two talk about?”

“You, for the most part. Your drive and charm,” I sort of lied. “How you get it from your mom.”

She looked skeptical. Instead of prying, she brought a couple ice chips up to my mouth with a plastic spoon. “Whatever he told you, just ignore it.”

I wanted to, really I did. But I couldn’t.

Piper interrupted my thoughts once again. “So, I was thinking, once you’re cleared to leave, let’s go to the cabin. I can still do all my classes online and our bags are all packed. You can recover in peace and quiet. No one will know we’re there.”

I smiled at the thought. Just me and Piper, wrapped up in each other, much like we were in the safe house. We were in our own little world then; a little world that can’t exist.

“What do you think?”

Her eyes were bright with excitement, her cheeks flushed. She had a huge smile on her face, making her freckles dance. “Sounds amazing.” She pressed her lips to mine, which I hungrily accepted. Instead of cupping her face, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, holding her to me in a desperate attempt to keep her.

It didn’t work. Instead, she fed me more ice chips and spoke about all the things we could do at the cabin — read books in the sunroom, watch horror movies in the small theatre room or just stay in bed, naked. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her no; to tell her we couldn’t be. I just kept smiling and nodding, dreaming all the images in my head.

That’s how my future with Piper would be: nothing more than a dream.


	21. Day 17

**Chapter 21 • Piper | Tuesday, 11:54 a.m.**

I can’t remember the last time I was this excited; I was giddy! Fuck, I just used the word “giddy”! I rolled my eyes and watched as the numbers illuminated in the elevator, signaling what hospital floor I was passing. Only a few more to Bucky’s.

I barely slept last night, instead thinking about all the things to do once we got up to the cabin. I would need to do some cleaning and make up the beds — the downstairs guest bedroom would be better for Bucky. He probably can’t do stairs…

I stayed at the hospital with Bucky the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday, but he insisted I go home Monday to get some rest and have some time to myself. That’s the last thing I wanted, but I relented. He had been acting strangely; more reserved and aloof. But then again, he almost died, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.

It was weird, being back in my apartment without Bucky. His presence was still there, as odd as that sounds. And, it was a little unsettling to be there without him. Thankfully, I had Jase and Dinah to keep my company. But truly, I just wanted to be with Bucky.

I couldn’t help but think about once he got better. Would he live with me? Or would we still live separately? I don’t really want that. Would he accept missions that would take him out of town? Or maybe we could leave D.C. all together?

I told myself to stop, that I was getting too far ahead. Just enjoy the present.

The elevator finally reached its destination, letting me off at the twelfth floor. I walked up to the nurses’ station, dropping off the box of donuts I had been carrying. They had been so awesome tome and Bucky, letting me stay way past visitation hours.

“Hi, Nadine,” I greeted the head nurse. She was the nicest; her kind face always greeting me with a smile. “Thought you could use some sugar.”

“Oh how sweet of you to come back and bring these for us,” she opened the box and “oohed.” They smelled delicious.

“I’m just here to get Bucky and we’ll be on our way,” I replied.

Nadine balked, her eyes going wide. “He - he’s already been discharged.” She cocked her head to the side, like a question. “He left two hours ago.”

It was my turn to make a funny face. “What?”

“He said you were downstairs waiting for him,” she supplied. “A couple of his friends came to get him and said you were all going out of town so he could rest.”

“Friends?” She nodded. “What did they look like?”

“Models. The tall one was really broad chested, short blonde hair. The other man was black, a bit shorter, but had a warm smile.”

“Steve and Sam.” Nadine just shrugged, not knowing their names. “You know, their car has more space for him to lay down. I bet we’re taking two cars, they just didn’t tell me. Men!” The lie slipped out of my mouth before I could think about it. I’m sure it sounded absurd, but I was so embarrassed. I just had to get out of there. I mumbled a thanks to Nadine and quickly left.

Once I was in the confines of my own car, I began to rack my brain, tears threatening my eyes. I remember our last few conversations. He never said anything about leaving, just like that. But then it hit me: the way he’s been acting, his replies vague and open ended. He was planning to check out before I came back. Then I thought back to when my Dad was in the hospital room with Bucky, their body language tense. I decided to give Dad a call. “Where is Bucky?” I said in place of a “hello.”

“I figured he would be with you?”

“No, Dad! He’s gone! He’s checked out of the hospital,” I started to yell. “Do you have something to do with this?”

“No, Piper. Why would I have something to do with it?”

I covered my face with my hand, embarrassed. Of course he wouldn’t do something like that. “I’m sorry, I just. I’m just so confused.”

“Piper, honey, I don’t know where he is.” There was a long pause before my father spoke again. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“We were supposed to go to the cabin. And he’s just gone. Where would he go?” I started to sob. Tears were streaming down my face while panic began to settle in my chest. He was safe, at least, with friends. But why would he just leave, without saying a word to me? How could Steve and Sam go with it? And what do I do next?

“Why did he leave me?” I whispered, to no one in particular.

“Maybe this is for the best,” my dad offered in a meek voice. He was so quiet; I’d never heard him use this tone before. “He has a dangerous career that spills over into his life. I would hate to think of you mixed up in that.”

I sniffled and tried to wipe away the tears as they fell, but was miserably failing. “He could have talked to me.” I hiccuped. “Why would he just leave like that?”

“Honey, I don’t know.” Dad was silent on the other end for a while, giving me time to steady my breath and try to compose myself. “Listen, I’m going to cancel the rest of my afternoon and we’re going to go get some lunch."

I shook my head, like he could see me. “I don’t want to go out.”

“Then I will come over with some food. We have some things to discuss anyways.”

I relented, agreeing to have my Dad over at my apartment in an hour. That would give me time to get home and get somewhat cleaned up. As I drove home, I called Jase and Dina, both of them on speaker phone at their apartment. They were shocked with the recent development. Jase, more so than Dinah, because “she had a feeling.” The two said they would come over tonight so we could drown ourselves in alcohol. That sounded fucking great, actually.

The apartment still felt like Bucky was there. It was all so overwhelming. I ran over to the patio off of the living room, throwing open the doors. I didn’t care that it may have been forty some degrees. I needed his scent gone. Maybe then I could think clearly.

As I pulled back the curtains, I noted the bracelet on my left wrist. Truly, it was the only thing I had to remind me of Bucky. I had no pictures with him, no clothing left behind. I didn’t even have his number. He was just erased.

Like he never existed.

Gone.

My dad was over in 45 minutes, two bags of food from my favorite Italian place in his hands. One bag was filled with different kinds of breads and cheeses. (Sometimes, dads truly do know their daughters’ hearts.) We started eating in silence, my Dad waiting to bring up Bucky until after I had three breadsticks in my stomach.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe you should be thinking about moving on.”

“You’re right,” I retorted. “I don’t want to hear about this.”

“Piper —”

“Dad, this literally just happened! I can’t move on from it just like that.” I emphasized “that” with a snap of my fingers.

“I know it’s going to take some time,” he said. “But you only knew him for two weeks.”

Tears started to fall from my eyes once again. “How long did you and mama know each other before you said I love you? Or you proposed? Or you got married?” He didn’t have to answer, we both knew they met and married less than six months after first meeting. “It happened. And it was wonderful. And I really love him. I just can’t turn it off.”

My Dad looked heartbroken for me, which made me feel a smidge better, believe it or not. I just wanted someone else to feel that pain I was currently feeling. Surely the loss of his soulmate was more than comparable. “Believe me, I know.” We ate a few more bites in silence. Actually, I was more or less picking at my food now. “All you need is a distraction.”

“I plan to get drunk tonight.”

My dad nodded his head in agreement. “That’ll work for the first few nights, but you’ll need something else. Come work on my campaign.”

I rolled my eyes. “I already figured I’d join you for some rallies.” I’d done that since I was in high school; speaking in front of large crowds was no big deal for me.

Dad laughed. “Of course, there’s that. But I mean really work on my campaign. I think you would be a great asset in marketing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And Graham is okay with this?” Graham is my Dad’s campaign manager. He is also a prick, but my Dad chooses to overlook that.

“At the end of the day, I’m the boss. You’re perfect for this job. You’re smart, have great ideas and know me better than anyone else.”

I dipped the end of my fourth — okay, fifth — breadstick in a container of roasted garlic sauce. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in politics, but that’s what my degree is. It would be nice to have a job right out of college — most kids in my field would dream of such a thing. But it was with my Dad. Nepotism at it’s finest, right? But I could use the distraction. It would be a great distraction, really.

I found myself nodding my head. “Okay, I’m in.”

My dad was ecstatic, standing up from the bar stool to hug me. I think this had probably been a dream of his for a while.

I will help out here and there for the next few weeks, leading into the primaries. Should Dad get the nomination from his party, I would then take on a more full-time role. Surprisingly, I was genuinely excited to get started.

The conversation drifted from the campaign to current news topics to my security, you know, since my three guys had gone bad. I would be sharing detail with Dad, until I could have one or two of my own hired. My Dad suggested that I be a part of the interview process, which I loved.

“I want a female agent,” I mumbled between bites of my lasagna. “Females make up less than ten percent of the secret service. If we showed that I had a female agent, that may boost your campaign. And maybe more girls will want to be agents.”

My dad smiled. “I love that idea.” I smirked back. He probably only liked it given the nature of the last partnering outcome, but I’ll take a win when I can.

Dad stayed for another couple hours before leaving to return to the White House. I was a bit nervous to be in my apartment alone for the first time in weeks, but thankfully, I wasn’t alone long. Jase and Dinah were in my apartment twenty minutes later, four canvas bags filled with bottles of alcohol.

“Let’s get fucked up!” Dinah shouted.


	22. Two Weeks Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure how I was going to end the story, but this is what came to life. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and for all the love!

**Chapter 22 • Bucky | Friday, 10:56 a.m.**

It had been a little over two weeks since I left the hospital, cutting myself out of Piper’s life. And it’s been nothing but hell every second.

Steve was surprised when I called him from the hospital, detailing my plan. He didn’t like it, but he understood why I was doing it this way and went with it.

“I need her to hate me, Steve,” I told him. “I don’t want her to have any feelings for me.”

“Still doesn’t seem like a nice thing to do,” he replied.

It wasn’t, but that was the idea. Her love for me would turn into hate, then indifference. She would get over me and move on to the life she deserves to have: one without fear, constant worry and high stakes.

Instead of recovering at my apartment — I needed help getting around and doing day-to-day stuff — I stayed at Sam’s. He was a great friend, helping me to and from his spare bed, in and out of the shower and changing my bandages. He would check in during the day and help me out in the morning and at night, but other than that, I was left alone. Which is just how I wanted to be.

Unfortunately, being alone didn’t keep me from thinking about Piper. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to be at the cabin with her, how she would have helped me get around, what she would have cooked me for dinner…probably a frittata. Or cereal. It’s the only two meals I ever really saw her make.

I fought off the urge to track her through my app, but lost the fight on the fourth day. Every couple hours or so I would open the app and watch her — she never took the bracelet off. I’m sure one day she will, but for right now, this was my way to feel like I was still a part of her life.

She didn’t do much. She practically always stayed in her apartment. One time she went to Jason and Dinah’s. Another time the White House. She became a recluse of sorts, which made me feel like shit.

I was watching some stupid game show on Sam’s crappy TV — even I had a better TV than this! And I hardly ever watch TV! — when my phone buzzed next to me. I figured it was Sam checking in on me, but was shocked when I saw Mr. Stewart’s name on the caller ID. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end while fear balled itself in my stomach. My first thought was that something happened to Piper.

“Sir?” I answered. “Is everything okay?”

“So you’re not dead.” The voice on the other end said.

Fuck. “Piper!”

“Yeah, that’s me. How good of you to remember.” I could feel her bite through the phone. She was cold and short. I couldn’t form the words to say anything, but that was fine. Piper was doing all the talking. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Honestly? Did you just think leaving would solve everything? That I wouldn’t notice? That I would mind?”

“Piper —”

“No, you listen to me. You’re an asshole. I tell you I love you and you run away?” I could hear a sniffle. Fuck, she’s crying. “Did you even love me?” My heart breaks hearing the question, which she asked in between a sob. I felt my own eyes water.

“Of course I love you.” I shouldn’t have said it, but it came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Then why are you doing this to us? To me?” she’s almost pleading, wanting to be put out of her misery.

“Because you deserve better,” I snap, interrupting her. “You don’t need to worry about if I’m coming home each night. Or if I’m going to lose another body part. Or if I’ll have a horrific dream when we’re sleeping one night and you wake up to me choking you. You shouldn’t have to live with, with…a monster.”

I was thrown by my own admission. I didn’t know I was holding on to these thoughts; these fears. It was some time before either one of us spoke; when it was time, it was Piper.

“You’re not a monster. Don’t say that about yourself.” Another pause. “You told me you would never hurt me. Well, you have. You fucking broke my heart.”

Piper ended the call, leaving me alone. The only sound filling the air was clapping on the television, mocking me. _Congratulations! You’ve just won the grand prize — losing the love of your life! Would you like to make a deal to play in the final showcase?_

“Fuck you, Wayne Brady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming this fall, "Eye for an Eye," the sequel to "Bone of My Bone."


End file.
